Life gets philosophical when you do laundry. Not in the, I'm going to find symbolism in my powder detergent, maybe because I don't use it, but because I'm pretty much stuck in the laundromat, waiting for my stuff to finish, giving me an excuse to do nothing, while feeling justified that I'm doing something.
Maybe it's because it is now this big production that requires finding decent clothes to wear to actually leave the apartment and walk down the next block, or maybe it's because I need to save quarters during my weeks between loads, or maybe it's because I'm sitting in a laundromat in the middle of the day when other people have jobs.
Either way, a part of me always feels somewhat New-Year's-y when I have to do it. Like, when I emptied my pockets and found crumpled receipts from the frozen yogurt place, or balled up tissues, or even business cards. I take them all out, remembering that this was what I wore when I went here and got lost. This was what I wore when I sat in that cupcake shop for three hours writing. This is what I wore when I met those people.
And I wash everything out. The negativity, the stress, the smell. And I get to start over again, if only because I don't smell like barbecue and street stress.
Either way, a part of me always feels somewhat New-Year's-y when I have to do it. Like, when I emptied my pockets and found crumpled receipts from the frozen yogurt place, or balled up tissues, or even business cards. I take them all out, remembering that this was what I wore when I went here and got lost. This was what I wore when I sat in that cupcake shop for three hours writing. This is what I wore when I met those people.
And I wash everything out. The negativity, the stress, the smell. And I get to start over again, if only because I don't smell like barbecue and street stress.
And I get to pretend that I'm a grown up, pushing one of those metal baskets from the washers to the dryers, thinking of Friends and how Rachel sat in one.
Of course, all of this Zen is ruined when you run out of quarters and your jeans are slightly damp, so you might smell a little weird, but you can forget that and enjoy the fact that you found five bucks in your sad jeans and that you have underwear again.