You know... there are very few things that I love as much as doing laundry. Especially at the laundromat. It's so... efficient. Concise, really. It's a metaphor for what we all wish we could do with our lives sometimes. You package up the dirty things, haul them to a place chock-full of cleanness where all manner of people gather for the same purpose, pick a machine, add some liquid encouragement (and what else could you possibly call it with names full of positive reinforcement - 'Gain'? 'All'? 'Cheer'? They WANT me to succeed!), and stand back. Half an hour's worth of entertainment later, things come out good as new, albeit a little damp.
My new laundromat is my idea of heaven because there are opposing rows of front-loading washing machines. I can set two loads - a white and a dark (also a metaphor, or sorts... you see why I love this?) - go over to the corner and get a Coke, and settle in for the show. And I really do watch. I take a book with every intention of reading, but I'm always entranced with watching the sheets and towels and socks swish and spin on one side... and then I switch sides, lean against the white-machine, and watch the jeans and sweaters slosh in the other.
And once they're spun sufficiently? Then the real fun begins. The dryers are stacked on top of one another, so whites go in the top (two quarters, one dryer sheet), darks in the bottom (three quarters, two dryer sheets - sweaters + fleece jammies = staticky business) and there's a whole new kind of show. It starts with the flopping as wet things fall from top to bottom with every tumble, and slowly becomes more of a fluffy tossing activity as things dry. I can barely pull myself away to wipe out the bottom of the basket. Sheets come out first, towels stay in for another quarter... folded sheets in the bottom of the basket... then socks and underwear. Then we switch dryers and fold t-shirts and sweatshirts, then jeans and sweaters and big heavy cotton-rag boot socks, and then back to the top dryer for towels and the bathmat (which never quite gets dry) very last. Then it all gets hauled back home fresh-smelling and ready to start the week.
Leaves filthy and used, comes home refreshed and renewed. The lady that does the drop-off laundry has my dream job.
Oh, and this has nothing to do with laundry, but I'm jealous that someone else got to interview this dog: Seriously, pet owners.