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Friday
Sep232005

Laundry Day

Laundry day is easily, the worst thing about living in New York City. Not the subway, not the dirt, the grime, not the horribly congested sidewalks that bring on a bout of sidewalk rage way more than I ever succumbed to road rage back home... it's doing laundry.

It's an all day ordeal. Bring a book, bring snacks, cuz you gonna be there for awhile girlfriend. Yeah, I know. You can pay people to do your laundry for you, you can even pay 'em to come pick it up right from your apartment. But I don't go in for that kind of thing. First, I've got better things to spend money on.. Second, I don't need a stranger pawing through my blood stained shorts, and various other blush inducing articles of clothing, with all manner of bodily fluid and nacho cheese dried in. So that just leaves me. Although The Surge has been known to get his laundry on.. I fairly force him into action by avoiding the whole mess until he must either turn his boxers inside out, or break down and laundry up.

As I tend to postpone, procrastinate, anything to avoid the agony, I always end up with a good three or four loads. Also, I haven't broken down and actually purchased a granny cart with which to lug my load, so I'm relegated to carrying the laundry bag, sherpa style on my back.
"Hey there, looks heavy."
"You should try doing laundry more." Yeah, yeah, yeah.. There are always a few comedians milling about on Bedford street, just waiting to toss out hilaaaarious one liners as I waddle by.

The ONLY thing I like about laundry day, aside from smoothing fresh, crackling, clean sheets on my bed is the smell of the laundromat. Mmmmm... Clean, soapy, baby powder, air.. It wafts around me, mingles with my hair, my clothes.. So instead of coming home with cigarette smells, from a night at the bar or one of The Surge's gigs, I return a summer goddess.. all lemon scented, mountain breeze, and oh so fresh.

So here I sit, trying to avoid the dryer's attempts to hypnotize me. Like staring into a roaring camp fire.. Reds, blues, there's my green dress! Christmas light colors flapping about in hot air. Tumbling in the rumbling of the dryer. And then I'm off to wallow in my clean, warm, aromatic sheets.

Reader Comments (3)

For the first time in my life I have a washer and dryer in my apt.! YEY!! One would think I would do laundry more often...nope. However, don't feel too bad cuz growing up in the ghetto I had to do laundry for five people (my brothers and parents) and lug that shit five blocks..god bless those granny carts....every week for six years!!
I advise go with the cart and save the back. :)~
September 23, 2005 | Unregistered CommenterJulia
Laundry. A family of 5 produces many loads of laundry. Occasionally the laundry gets backed up. My husband takes charge. His idea is to wash a load, dry it, wash a load, dry it. Notice you don't read anything about FOLDING. He doesn't fold the fucking clothes. The clothes sit on a spare bed with various family members pilfering from it. Eventually he might get annoyed because he can't find any socks and decides its time. The folding, if you could call it that, begins. He'll fold them inside out (since he never turned them right side out to begin) sloppy and wrinkly. Sometimes he sorta rolls them up. Although he is nice enough to make piles for each one of us, it would be helpful if he could actually tell MY clothes from my 13 year olds. I'm not sure, maybe he still sees me as a size 3? Wait, I was never a size 3. Drives me up a fucking wall...and he doesn't listen or give a damn. He thinks he's doing everyone a favor and we should all be very lucky somebody is doing it :) Truthfully, they all must be refolded and resorted into the correct piles. One day a couple of months ago, my entrepreneurial middle son asked what he could do for some money for a new x-box game. I told him to go fold the clothes. He did a great job I have to say even if his motivation was for cash. He has since inherited this chore. :)
September 23, 2005 | Registered CommenterTabatha
I find that giving a bad day, a pet peeve, a fight with The Surge a humorous twist, makes me look at it a bit differently the next time said bad day, pet peeve.. etc occurs. Your story made me laugh Tabasco.. maybe next time your husband leaves the laundry in a heap.. you'll crack a smile when you think of what you wrote.. It made me chuckle.. Particularly the line "He doesn't fold the fucking clothes". It stands so proudly on it's own, even if it didn't have the rest of the paragraph to back it up.. You could call me, and say just that sentence, and your point would be well taken..
September 24, 2005 | Unregistered CommenterMonica

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