May 26, 2013
The washer downstairs runs
endlessly, spinning out of control from 11:30pm on Friday to 6:30pm on Saturday
so obviously something is amiss! Convinced Taelor to trek down to the basement
to open the washer lid only to discover the tank is full of foamy water, and
the dial is not cycling. She turned the knob to draw off the water and spin,
with a great squeak. Filmy water gushed out from the bottom of the ancient
appliance and onto the cement floor going mainly in the general direction of
the floor drain. Taelor looked pretty sheepish upon her return with our basket
loaded with soiled laundry to be cleaned elsewhere. Sigh.
A few miles down the road
from here stands a dilapidated white building, cornering two streets. I am
fortunate to have a great friend who is willing to lug my overflowing basket of
clothes to sit and wait during the wash and dry cycles, occasionally checking
them to sort out the dry articles, fold and haul everything back home. The
change machine was out-of-order so Sarah drove across the street to hawk a five
spot for a handful of quarters. Shocking to discover the machines set me back a
mere $1.25 per washer and about the same to dry.
A few heavy-set people
scattered in the broken seats, chatting and glancing our way strategizing about
snatching rolling carts to lug their precious cargo from washer to dryer across
the aisle. A glance up now and again lets them know there is still time on the
machine and they can relax a few more minutes. My fashion-statement boot always
draws one person in for conversation. “Did you break your foot?” I want to wail
in song yet a simple story of a fracture in South America flies calmly out of
my lips. A small man with tight-buttoned black shirt, wide forehead and
pleasant smile relayed his personal story of broken limb and rapid healing
process. He has full range of motion and looks pleased about his progress in a
few short months. I am cheered more than I can tell you and want to kiss him in
delight.
Connecting with an old
friend, Sarah who came to spend the weekend from a nearby town. We discuss
issues and challenges such as nutrition, mothering techniques, disappointments,
parents and their foibles, the broken path ahead, fears and trepidation,
desires, dreams, commitment strategies, movies, the Twin Cities, traveling, our
past relationships, things that make a difference as we inhale our adventure at
the tired Laundromat. I can’t recall the last time I had to do laundry away
from the house. Sara’s little dog, Max came along for the ride and has such
different energy than my Tyrus. They get along well though one is 105 pounds
and the other nine.
My friend and I talk about
our profound stories well into the night, surprising ourselves at just how long
we can stay awake at our maturing age.
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