Laundro-zen

I do my laundry approximately once a month. Some of my clothes become questionable in this period but as I own about a singular load's worth of clothing, it will just have to abide. I could bother some of my grown up friends for the untaxing use of their washing opperatti but I love laundromats. I love the sketchy people, I love the advertisements, I love the florescent lighting on the garish, '70's cast-off paint job and peeling wall paper. The public display of humanity really touches me.

Laundering my clothing, like most domestic chores is a zen process of comfort to me. Sir, I do not care if you own this building, which in my most homeless has been my 2am reading and using the bathroom Zion, I will put my laundry soap...or substitute in-- when and where I choose. It's my eight quarters damn it. I have used one of these washers before—in fact I've used this one, number 13, a dozen times. I need, in order for me to complete the process of laundry, to read all seven points of instruction EVERY time. And if I'm questioning your top loader for the soap, I will do so because I'm experimenting with new detergent practices and because it pleases me.

And instead of sitting here, relaxed by the steady drip of ironic lucky thirteen's failed door-lock and reading a Mexican novel, I had to take out my computer to scribe the rape of my laundering process. How dare you intercede! How am I supposed to play dying, Street Fighter pinball if I do not have my zen? Am I supposed to last another month until I can find it again? This was my lap-top free laundromat because I don't have internet here. But I also didn't have any paper and my groove was thrown. I've now wasted my wash cycle.

Due to the ineptitrusion of the proprietor, Ms. Pacman will for another month be Ms. Cat-a-holic-lonely-manless and eaten by ghosts. My second laundromat got me closer to my zen. I dried things (th e driers are newer and cheaper at Laundromat #2) and watched some episodes online and piddled around online. Watching naval crime dramas is not the same if I'm not neglecting German Hausaufgaben, but was comforting nevertheless.

Not until 1:30am while folding my finally dried (cheaper is not free) belongings, does the zen envelope me. Sealed safely into my menstrual soul by the newly darned socks. Mmm domesticity, how you balm a weary soul and your victoriously clean clothings attire a weary body.