Laundry

A.V. Walters

Today is one of those mundane days when you have to take care of the basics. Little else is more humbling, in modern life, than a trip to the Laundromat. When we first found our little winter safe-haven, it was advertised as having “laundry hookups.” We shrugged; we’d just buy a stackable unit and take it with us when we left.

Then, we made the trip to see our little honeymoon cottage. With just one glance at the laundry closet, we knew there was a problem. First, it was too small to hold conventional American laundry machines. Closer inspection revealed that, sure enough, there were water hook-ups, but there wasn’t a drain line, or venting for a dryer. Clearly, despite the listing language, nobody had ever done laundry in this cottage. When we mentioned this to the landlord, he hemmed and hawed. I can’t blame him; it is a vacation rental, after all. Who wants to pay the utilities so folks can go home with clean laundry? He said it hadn’t come up—vacationers and all. They used the Laundromat here in the village. We signed the papers and moved in, anyway.

It turns out that the local facilities are geared to the summer rental cycle. In English, that means there are no laundry facilities in town during the winter. We Googled it. There are no ‘winter’ Laundromats in the county, at all, except one on the bay-side of the county—about as far as one can get from us—maybe thirty miles. So, we can go to Traverse City, the next county east of us (a mere twenty-two miles), or we can go into the county south of us, a fourteen mile drive. Laundry has turned into a bigger deal than we could have imagined.

Generally, we head south. It’s shorter and the Laundromat there is cleaner, friendlier and fully staffed. There’s a bit of a snow squall out, today, and the run to my favored facility was hairy. I nearly spun out once, that, and the poor visibility had me creeping along at grandpa speeds. When I finally arrived, the attendant met me at the door. Sundays have short hours and I had just missed “last call,” the latest that they’ll permit you to start a load.

I’m stubborn. Having gone to the trouble of loading everything up and heading out into the snow, I wasn’t about to go back home without clean clothes and linens. Especially the linens. You see, most of our things are in storage and we have only one set of sheets. If I gave up for the day, I’d have to haul the dirty clothes back inside, pull out the sheets, make up the bed again with dirty sheets, only to have to strip them again tomorrow on a renewed laundry quest. So, I set off for Traverse City.

Surely, I figured, there must be a shortcut to eliminate the northern dogleg, before heading east. But if there is, I couldn’t find it. Peering through the snow, I took unfamiliar roads that seemed to head in the right direction. Soon, the road I was on got narrower and narrower (and the snow got deeper and deeper) to a dead end. I had to backtrack. After a couple of turns in near white-out conditions, I was lost. So, I headed north, knowing that it would ultimately have to take me to Empire—and then I could head east. Sigh.

Here, in the Traverse City Laundromat, the last dryer load is lofting in grand circles. My quarters are depleted. Soon I can fold, and head home into the snowy night. Like I said, these little household management details will keep you humble.

 

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