Washing the kids' clothes.

My dryer broke down a few weeks back and I’m so backed up on washing clothes. Why haven’t I fixed the dryer yet? Well, it isn’t that I haven’t tried. It simply needs one small part to be replaced. And I’ll be damned if I’m going to replace the thing with a new dryer just for one small $30 part. (Although I’ve set a new washer and dryer in my sights for a couple of years out.) I haven’t replaced the part because the manufacturers made the faulty part in question nearly impossible to reach without having the hand size of a small child or taking the entire machine apart. I will fix it eventually. In the meantime I’ve been trekking to the local laundromat.

At first I hated it. I thought it akin to having to take the city bus to work, another activity I’m not a fan of. But after several trips, I’ve come to enjoy it a little. There something about the hum of the machines, the smell of fabric softener and bleach and the spinning of the clothes that is both relaxing and hypnotic. It’s like a short mental retreat now. I’ll take my coffee, a book, and plan on enjoying an hour or two of therapy disguised as washing, drying and folding.