When it comes to laundry, I’m old school.When we moved here, I was happy to see that the condo came with an old agitator- style washer. I’m pretty sure it (like most of the other appliances) is at least 20 years old.
No, I don’t want a fancy front loader needing as much attention as a moody princess, what with wiping its flange and leaving its door open to avoid mold. I don’t want a control display that rivals NASA. What makes me happy is pouring the soap right into the tub, stuffing in my clothes (often with no sorting whatsoever), and picking hot, warm, or cool. If I get really crazy, I might wash a sweater or two on gentle. The plans is to keep this washer going even if it means putting my repairman’s eight children through graduate school.
Unfortunately, for all its admirable qualities, this washer can’t accommodate my winter comforters, which have become almost another piece of furniture this month as they’ve sat in a corner waiting to go to the laundromat.
Today was the day. I gathered my quarters ($5.50 for one load!) and off I went.
The place was echoingly empty, except
for one other customer who got me started on the finer points, like where the
heck to put the soap.
There is a sign promising a drop-off service, but there was no one there to receive. Two separate men arrived, went behind the counter to gather their laundry, and departed.
There was also an odd Western theme to some of the decorations, or maybe the owner is just a Clint Eastwood fan.
I was ready for boredom, armed with a library book, an audio book on my phone, and a crossword puzzle, but the time went quickly. Especially when I realized it was a quarter for just 10 minutes in the dryer. After 20 minutes, I gathered up my two comforters and brought them home, where they’re finishing their (free) drying out on the porch.