Friday evening at about 7:00 I headed off to the washateria. I hate doing laundry under the best circumstances, hauling my clothes up the street does not constitute "the best circumstances," and I wanted to get this unpleasantness out of the way.
When I got there, it was full. Yet I got three washers (dark, whites, mixed) side-by-side-by-side. That's because everyone in the Friday night/after work laundry crowd was already drying. Which meant that by the time I got to the dryers, everyone had gone home.
Literally.
I was catching up with William and Kate and George and Charlotte in US magazine when I suddenly noticed the silence. I heard the whirring of my two dryers and the sloshing of the attendant's mop and that was it. When I sneezed -- fabric softeners sheets will do that to me -- the attendant seemed startled that I was still there. After she blessed me, she commented on the quiet. We exchanged smiles, and then I started to get creeped out.
A pair of young men without laundry came in. I couldn't hear what they asked the attendant, nor could I make out her response, but they weren't happy and I was glad when they left. As I began folding I realized two things: 1) I was scared and 2) I didn't want to leave her there alone. Though what I could do to keep the attendant safer is a mystery, isn't it?
As I was packing up to go, I was thrilled when a big guy joined us. He was distracted and on his phone, there to retrieve clothes he'd left in the dryer a while ago. I was glad he was there.
By the time I left, my instincts were really humming with "Danger! Danger!" I'm worried about the attendant, being alone there overnights. That's a crappy job she has.
And I cannot wait for our condo association to finally replace the machines here in the building.
These are the thoughts and observations of me — a woman of a certain age. (Oh, my, God, I'm 65!) I'm single. I'm successful enough (independent, self supporting). I live just outside Chicago, the best city in the world. I'm an aunt and a friend. I feel that voices like mine are rather underrepresented online or in print. So here I am. If my musings resonate with you, please visit my blog again sometime.
I like Washateria much better than Laundromat.
ReplyDeleteI can't imagine living in a place with them open 24-hours! Ours has a "last load" policy of 5 o'clock, with a closing time of 6 (or when the last load is done).