So maybe yesterday I posted a little prematurely. What started as a slow, peaceful day ended a little something like this. . .
I decided to head into town to run my errands at around 1:00 pm. Leaving at 1:00 would give me time to run my errands, stop at the laundromat to throw a load in, and be back home in plenty of time to clean up the apartment and cook dinner before I had to pick up the Mr. from work. Perfect.
When I walked into the laundromat I summed up my surroundings. Looks a little crowded. There are plenty of washing machines available. Shouldn’t be a problem finding a dryer. I loaded in our oh so stinky clothes, poured in the laundry detergent, deposited the quarters, and pressed start. The timer began flashing, so I found a nearby chair and began reading the book I had brought in my bag. A few minutes later, I happened to look up, and the clothes had not so much as taken one single spin. Error. What the heck does that mean?! I walked over to the washer and started pressing buttons and pulling on the door. Nothing. Great.
I walked to the coffee shop next door for some assistance, only to find out that although they previously also owned the laundromat, they had recently sold it to someone who never felt the need to be present, at her place of business, and had not posted a contact phone number anywhere. Fantastic. Luckily the maintenance guy was in the coffee shop at the time and he refunded my $5 in quarters so I could use another washing machine. You saved my day maintenance man!
I walked back over to the laundromat with my bag full of quarters, rolled a cart over to collect my clothes and put them in a different machine. But the door would not open. I pulled on the handle, rocked it back and forth, pushed more buttons, pulled on the handle some more. The washing machine started. I said, out loud this time; “Are you kidding me?!?!“ I sat back down in my chair and went back to my book. The next several minutes between scanning the pages of my book, (This is a terrible book. Why did I bring this one?), I would quickly take apprehensive glances at the washer to make sure it was working properly. Good so far. We made it all the way to the first spin cycle and. . . . error. What!!!! I walked back over to the machine, pulled on the door, pressed the buttons, and tried all of the other tricks that made it start the first time. Nothing. Fine. Fine. FINE. On to the dryer. The door would not open. I stood with my hands covering my eyes for a moment. I tried again. I said a few choice words to the washer. I pulled again. I looked around. [If you have ever had to be burdened with the use of a laundromat, you know people don’t speak to you. Much less even think about looking at you.] Everyone was minding their own business or looking at the floor. Certainly not offering to help the poor girl tearing up the washing machine. Suddenly, I heard “click.” Oh thank you baby Jesus.
The clothes were, of course, sopping wet. I didn’t care and didn’t feel like playing games with another washing machine, so I threw everything into two dryers, put in a ton of money, and prepared to stay a while.
One hour and forty-five minutes later, I checked on the clothes for the sixth time, (I’m not exaggerating here), and nothing was dry. I was sweaty. I was hungry. I needed coffee. And I’m pretty sure steam was billowing out of my ears. I packed up my bags with the wet laundry, put the quarters I was going to return back in my bag (compensation for my battle), and headed home.
I picked up the Mr. at work and he immediately sensed something had severely pushed my buttons. I quickly cut off the conversation and said I did not want to discuss it until I had food, coffee, and a few minutes with my feet up. When we returned to the apartment with articles of clothing and towels hanging on every door, railing, and flat surface we owned, he simply said, “Not a good day at the laundromat, huh?” No. Not a good day at the laundromat.
(This post was originally published on our sticks or stones blog, which is no longer in publication.)