The Rinse Cycle

Today, I did my laundry. Yes, I threw my large bag o' clothes over my shoulder and walked a block to the laundromat. What a strange place, the laundromat. I would like to think of it as an invasion of privacy. You stuff all of your dirty clothes into a bag, that have been touching you oh so intimately, and bring them to a public place. Once you're there you stuff them into a machine that washes them where everyone else's dirty intimate clothing has been. Plus, you get to see what everyone else has brought in that day! How exciting, its like show and tell! The laundromat is sometimes crowded, with people all up in your space with huge bags that they must have collected from every person in Harlem, or the city of New York for that matter. When they have finally dried all of this laundry, they find it necessary to fold it all on every available table in the place. Somehow I always manage to loose my clothing when making the transfer from washer to dryer, leaving a trail of underwear and socks behind me. Little Hispanic men follow the trail and meet me at the dryer with arms extended, graciously handing over my intimate belongings. As I stuff the clothes into the dryer I feel the need to throw them in as fast as I can, for fear of someone else viewing my forever stained underwear. 

The television by the washer blasts an Indiana Jones movie, while the one by the dryer is blasting a Spanish soap opera. I decided to go and sit by the washers. At least here I can stare at Harrison Ford, and zone off into the rinse cycle. When the time came to add another quarter to the machine, I decided to be productive and read my book. I noticed a man with dreads and leathery skin leaning against a folding table staring in my direction. "Oh crap, he's coming over here." He rolled his cart of clothes over in my direction and parked it next to my chair, where I was sitting so peacefully. "Hello there. What are you reading? How many pages is that? Wow, that must have taken you a long time to read! I could never do that!" 

This is the other moment I must comment on about a laundromat. Can I not do laundry in peace? I do not want to be social with strangers while I'm washing my underwear and I do not want to be hit on while I'm sitting next to yours! I just sat there pretending to read and nodded my head, so as to not look completely rude, but still rude enough so he would get the point. 

He finally left, but when he saw me he kept referring to me as "Hey, reader..." 

I can understand being social at the grocery store, a coffee shop, restaurant, any place that you might have a conversation about the atmosphere or the food you are consuming, but the laundromat? No, do not talk to me. I came here to do this alone and without judgement. I do not want to be judged when I'm folding my granny panties that I only wear when everything else is dirty, ok. I do not want to be judged when I decide to use 5 caps of laundry detergent instead of one, just to make sure my clothes are EXTRA clean. I do not want to be judged when I throw in 20 dryer sheets. I do not want to be judged if I decide I want to play the race car game sitting vacant and calling my name. 

When my clothes are finished drying, you better believe that I throw those clothes into my bag and run out the door, leaving a trail behind me.