A new lease on life. Rather, a new lease at a cheaper (plus) yet shittier (no microwave, dishwasher, washer/dryer appliances) rental home. Like anything with new there comes change. For the first time in my life I had no choice but to bring my laundry to a laundromat. What am I? A poor?

I called up an expert, my old roommate. A few years ago our dryer went out, while the rest of us were just re-wearing underwear, he went on whistling over to the neighborhood laundromat. On the phone he laughed and recommended a phone charger and some headphones. Obviously he didn’t recognize the completeness of ignorance. Need you your own soap? Quarters? Do you bring in your load with your basket or a trash bag? He explained all and I was prepared for my trip.

4:00pm on a Tuesday at the coin laundry. I bring in my basket and $4 in quarters and push passed the taped-to-the-door open sign. Half of the 1950s era machines have out of order stickers. I find a pair that seemingly function and prepare to fill it. The machine is like one of those trick snack containers that only has three chips thanks to the false depth of the packaging. It fits only half of my intended load and demands more than half of my brought quarters. $2.75 in hindsight seems reasonable but exceeded my expectations. I return from my car with some more change and load up the second washer. Only now do I see the explicit anime sticker that has been stuck to the inside of my basket for years. I never thought it would be seen.

Laundry is an intimate affair in my mind. These are my garments, the things that I choose to cover me. Furthermore they are dirty. Not in the condition that I would permit others to view them. I think there is a strange psychology to clothing, and its washing. Its always been private affair in my life, until now.

I realize I will need more change. So during the wash cycle I head for the 7/11 at the corner. Only now thinking about it do I remember it wasn’t a gas station, just a 7/11. I knew they existed, but I had never been into such a store. Regardless I buy a lotto ticket to get some cash back. I come back to my task and pop in headphones. I am at first happy to find the 25 cent dryer fee, but after hitting “start” it shows a 7 minute count down. Bastards got me again.

Have I mentioned the 10×10 foot pool of water in the middle of the laundromat? Well it didn’t seem to matter to the other washers, and so I too have just put it out of mind.

So far I have just been ticked that I even have to be there. However, I smile for the first time. The audiobook I am listening to is George Orwell’s 1984. I found this to be an excellent laundromat read. The dystopian nature of it all setting comfortably in as I watch the swirling clothes in the circular windows. I smiled because ‘ol Winston is just now getting his rocks off in my ear. It makes me look around at who might have seen my blushing. I begin to wonder about the people around me. The other patrons were older and watching the telescreen, whoops, television. Some local news station with a story about winter storms. I wondered what they thought about me “glued to my phone” as the typical young fella. My conclusion was that I at least choose what propaganda I watch on twitter, rather than the state run stuff. But maybe we’re both the fool.

In the end it took 3 rounds in the 7 minute dryers. What did I think of the laundromat? It was more expensive than I thought. It didn’t last as long I had guessed, but I’m used to letting the clothes sit for hours at a time after the machines done with them. Why’d I write all of this down? I don’t know. If you got about a 1/3 of the way through and started to second guess yourself, you aren’t the only one.