Oh, Saturday night
Mmm, everyone's having fun
I'm down at the laundromat
Trying to get my washing done
Watching the clothes go 'round
Another week sees its end
Watching the clothes go 'round
Watching the clothes go 'round
<The Pretenders:
"Watching The Clothes">
A couple Sundays ago, I happen to be wrapping up my weekly pile of laundry, when a couple of older women enter the room.
For much of my time here, our laundry room has served as a monument to how ancient civilizations lived -- as the twin presences of the '60s-era cigarette machine, and '80s-era pop machine, can attest.
Both took up an enormous amount of space, for the longest time, until somebody or other finally removed them. And, oh yeah, the laundry's on the second floor. Who does that nowadays?
Another reminder of the Mike Brady Era of Architecture, when nobody bothered about such things. Ah, they'll trudge up the stairs. They'll curse under their breath, but they'll put up with it. They won't have any other choice.
For much of my time here, our laundry room has served as a monument to how ancient civilizations lived -- as the twin presences of the '60s-era cigarette machine, and '80s-era pop machine, can attest.
Both took up an enormous amount of space, for the longest time, until somebody or other finally removed them. And, oh yeah, the laundry's on the second floor. Who does that nowadays?
Another reminder of the Mike Brady Era of Architecture, when nobody bothered about such things. Ah, they'll trudge up the stairs. They'll curse under their breath, but they'll put up with it. They won't have any other choice.
Anyway, I'm minding my own business, like usual. Two drying cycles have come to a halt, at last. Time to start folding and stuffing clothes into the cobalt blue cart that helps me haul them back and forth.
Just when I look up again, I notice two women -- this one, sixtysomething, with fair white hair, that one, taller and stockier, in her forties, with braided brown hair, also wearing glasses -- bent intently over the washers.
They seem like a mother and daughter team. I watch them study the washer controls for a couple more minutes. Finally, I speak up. Must be new arrivals, I told myself. They don't know that management switched over the machines, from coins to e-cards, a couple years back.
"If you're trying to decide between medium or heavy, the only difference is the time, honestly," I say. "They just raised it a quarter not too long ago." (I now pay $2 per load, per washer.)
They seem like a mother and daughter team. I watch them study the washer controls for a couple more minutes. Finally, I speak up. Must be new arrivals, I told myself. They don't know that management switched over the machines, from coins to e-cards, a couple years back.
"If you're trying to decide between medium or heavy, the only difference is the time, honestly," I say. "They just raised it a quarter not too long ago." (I now pay $2 per load, per washer.)
"Oh, thanks." Mom flashes a quizzical look. "We just moved here a couple weeks ago, so we're still figuring everything out."
"Well, in that case, welcome," I answer. "What brings you both here, if you don't mind me asking?"
Now it's the Daughter's turn to sigh. "We were both renting a house, until the owner decided to sell it..."
Mom finishes the thought. "And didn't want to rent it anymore." She frowns, as the memory seems to flash, still fresh, still raw, across her lips. "They waited until our lease was up to tell us, too."
"Lovely timing, as usual," I agree. "Nice of them, wasn't it? No worries, I get it. I've heard a few stories like that, in my time."
"Yeah, that's how it worked out," Daughter says. "We moved out, because we had no choice. We had to find another place quick, and this is where we ended up."
"A familiar story. Well, good luck, then," I say. "If you need to know how anything else really works around here..." I've been here awhile, so I've seen a few changes in my time."
"Will do," Daughter says. "Thanks for your help."
I watch them load the washer, slam the lid shut, and leave, without another word. I wheel my cart behind them, following in their footsteps, as the clock ticks on. "There goes my Saturday night, without a fight," just like the song says: it's almost midnight. As usual, I have way too much work to do. --The Reckoner
I watch them load the washer, slam the lid shut, and leave, without another word. I wheel my cart behind them, following in their footsteps, as the clock ticks on. "There goes my Saturday night, without a fight," just like the song says: it's almost midnight. As usual, I have way too much work to do. --The Reckoner
<This Image:
"Laundry Room Blues/Take II"
"Laundry Room Blues/Take II"
That Image (At Top):
"Laundry Room Blues/Take I"
The Reckoner>
Links To Go (Hurry, Hurry,
Before Another Spin Cycle Betrays You Again...)
The Pretenders: Watching The Clothes:
https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=0huPnNi6ZhQ
Before Another Spin Cycle Betrays You Again...)
The Pretenders: Watching The Clothes:
https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=0huPnNi6ZhQ
I didn't ask where this particular duo came from, but I assume they're from the immediate area. Remember, too, property tax can be tricky -- you risk losing that house if you live in an area where they spiral out of control, too. I don't think there's any magic formula that can bullet or futureproof you against everything -- all you can do is know what to look for, and try to get the best deal you can. Good luck, Mrs. Peep, and thanks for writing. --The Reckoner
ReplyDeleteI wish when I was young I had put more into buying a small house instead of being a wandering renter but I never had enough money. It's depressing isn't it, to always be at the whim of landlords and greedy corporations. I guess the house owners do get slammed with the property taxes. Seems like it sucks, to have housing be such an issue. I hope these two weren't forced out of their town.
ReplyDelete