It's 8am on a Sunday and I am at the laundry mat and I couldn't be happier. There is one washing machine in our building for 29 units. There are 30 units, but the people below us paid to have plumbing rerouted to install a unit in their apartment, which I never really understood until now. The laundry machine has been out of order for over a month now. I held off for a few weeks in the hopes that they would actually fix it, but when the mountain started to tumble over I figure I had to come up with a new solution.
I've gone to extreme lengths in the past when the machine was out. I once took seven loads and a five month old over to my mother-in-laws the day she was moving. I did laundry and supervised a baby while she crawled amongst moving boxes as they were loaded onto a moving truck. But this time I just went to the laundry mat across the street.
I'd never been to a public laundry mat before. I'd managed to avoid it for the first 35 years of my life and I was at first feeling pretty bad that I needed to break that streak. It felt like something for the college years. I shouldn't have associated it with a giant step back in upward mobility but initially I did. That is until I actually got there.
This place is great. It's airy, bright, there's plenty of seating and free wifi - and it's quiet. Oh so quiet. Here I am on a Sunday morning, getting to write this and read blogs and watch Downton Abbey on my laptop if I want to - all by myself. Glorious peace.
I even have a confession to make - as I was dragging three laundry baskets down to the car this morning, I noticed the "out of order" sign was down. Sure I could have turned around - gone back upstair and done the loads one by one while enjoying a Sunday morning with my family. But I headed to the car instead. I've been up since 5:30 with my daughter (alone while my husband slept in) and I wanted a little me time. Is that so horrible? I don't think so.