Still Sudsy at the LAUN-DRO-MAT

Well, here we are 30 days later and we are still at the laundromat. It's not necessary to belabor the whole issue with my 4 year old MAYTAG top of the line, thousand dollar, Neptune washing machine, which is terminally broken. There's already been a class action lawsuit about this washer, but it's over now. No more claims. But let's not talk about that, it's so very, very sad. And I am so very, very, very mad.

I love the laundromat - I love the smells, and I love the people, and I love the speed. We are completely done, washed, dried and folded in less than an hour and a half. And there are so many fun things to see and do at the laundromat. We know this, because we are spending about 2 afternoons a week there.

It's a warm and bright and happy place. The west facing windows let the brutal summer sun to bear down on the already blazing hot laundromat - no, let's see - the beautiful rays of the sun gloriously shining from the west make the top of the washers an ideal place to grow houseplants. And so let's see how they grow in that warm, bright, moist environment.

This plant is big ....and lush...and has hairy things all over the leaves. Wait, it's lint. The leaves and stems and even the dirt are covered with lint.And this plant, in its natural state is purple. This version is not only covered with lint, but that new growth, back near the pot, it's just made some sort of mutation to accommodate the laundry...no longer purple, rather a pink spotted version of this purple plant. Trust me, it doesn't look right. It looks very, very ...not right.

We have our laundromat routine down to a science. No matter how many loads we have, no matter how many sheets and towels, comforters, dirty socks...not matter how much, it will take us 1 hour and 20 - 30 minutes.

Because we use as many washers and dryers as it takes to finish in that time - about 8 or 9 of those mega size things. Which MAY mean that other people in the laundromat are waiting. . . but they won't wait long, because it's all about speed for us. I have raced a woman to a dryer before. The first time, I felt guilty and let her have it. No more. No pity in the laundromat.

BigB, our elder son, doesn't like for his shirts to go into the dryer, since they heat up to about 493 degrees. thus shrinking the shirts to a size that might fit a stuffed animal. Since BigB is way more than 6 feet tall, and the short, bare mid-riff look doesn't do much for him, we stretch the shirts, then hang them to dry. It doesn't take very long, so it works for me.

The two person technique is most effective. PPP works really hard on this, since she doesn't much like for her midriff to be bare either. She can relate. Young Son, not so much. Whatever, work fast and get out. Even when we are on the clock, I remain mesmerized by the suds. The young ones are stretching shirts, and I am watching the suds. And possibly having a heat stroke. Or a hot flash. Or both. N.B.: this particular washer is labelled as if it were in a Harry Potter laundromat, what with the instructions about the 'programme.'I was SO mesmerized that I didn't notice that another of my 17 washers in use was dripping. The Laundry Lady noticed, and started piling up the towels under the drip. And panicking. This happens when a piece of laundry is stuck in the door and 'breaks the seal' so the water runs out. In this case, it was the string in a pair of pajama pants. The Laundry Lady gets pretty agitated and asks if we are going to be late for an appointment or a meeting. Do these people look like they are going to be late for a meeting? I didn't think so. Laundry Lady, bless her agitated heart, decided that the thing to do was to unplug the machine, open the door, get the string out, then start it up again, to avoid possibly....letting the water keep dripping out. I offered the services of Young Son, a strapping and agile young man who is also obedient. She declined, all the while, calling him 'sir.' "Sir, you'll have to step away. This is dangerous." Sir? Seriously? He's a 15 year old smart-ass. Obedient and strapping, but a smart ass nonetheless. He is not yet a 'sir'. I have seen him after lax summer league and when he has a headache. Not 'sir.' Not yet.So this was her solution. After re-arranging the mutant and fuzzy plants, she kicked off her keds and jumped up on those washers...and did this. Twice. Once to unplug it, once to plug it back in. There were sound effects. Not so many people are taking pictures in the laundromat, so I try to be discreet. Ok, I'm the only one taking pictures. I was mesmerized again, by the sight of the Laundry Lady with her head down behind the row of washers. ALL of which contained my clothes - and the ones on the other side too. Sorry, other patrons.
I was so engrossed in the whole head-behind-the-washer scenario that I let this happen. These are our wet clothes, and they are sitting in the washer. We don't let that happen. Part of our technique is speed. The instant the machine stops, we pull the clothes out and throw the wet clothes into about 4 dryers per washer. My attention was diverted and I let this happen. And then, to make matters worse, I made my minions wait while I took the picture.
So, we got the clothes in the dryer. But here's the question. Is there no justice? I am spending HOURS in the laundromat because my washer is broken, and so I go to the laundromat....and the washer breaks. It added at least 10 minutes to our time. Not fair. And she called my Young Son 'Sir'. Just saying.