When Habibi and I were first dating, I mentioned to him that I was not interested in ever owning a home. A mortgage and a toaster simply weren't for me.
Fast forward a couple of years and nothing has really changed. Although we do, in fact, own a toaster (because what red-blooded American doesn't like toast?), neither of us is really all that interested in home ownership. Despite all of this, there is one aspect of being a home owning American that appeals to me: a washing machine.
Since our marriage two years ago, we have lived in two different apartments, both of which have coin operated laundry facilities in the building, but no option of installation of a W/D in the individual units. For those of you who have experienced this sort of living situation, it isn't particularly dream worthy. (First World Problem, anyone?) Walking up and down flights of stairs every 30 minutes, hauling a heaping basket of clothes and praying that you have sufficient quarters (and that you don't biff it on the staircase) is far less desirable than just being able to toss something in the wash when you need it. Finding dead, mangled silverfish in your freshly "washed" shirt isn't very reassuring. A flooded basement that prohibits entrance to the laundry room makes for a week of digging through the dirty clothes. As a working adult, I resent the patronizing screech of the ancient dryer in my apartment basement. I am a grown-up, for crying out loud! I should not be having PTSD-esque flashbacks of college when I was so poor I could afford to use only the washer or the dryer, and was forced to hang clothes around my room. (You should see our apartment now...we literally have clothes drying in every room.) What of the nightmares of my living situation in France where my sink was my washer? Needless to say, I want W/D capabilities in our next home.
However, loading up the car and hauling everything to the local laundromat is certainly not without a certain charm. For instance, the place where Habibi and I do our laundry on occasion is just up the street and is always filled with all sorts of characters! I mean no disrespect when I say this, but there is a certain demographic that congregates at laundromats in my part of the country. Who would not melt after seeing the fluffy little puppy come in (despite the "no animals allowed" sign) with her blingy mom and mustachioed dad? How is watching some slightly creepy, tattooed guy lift up his girlfriend's son by the feet and try to stuff him headfirst into a washing machine not entertaining? (The kid was giggling, by the way.) In fact, tonight's experience holds a demented appeal all of its own....
Enter a middle aged man in a cutoff t-shirt, enraged about something and swearing profusely into his phone. Surely, there must be some sort of domestic dispute between him and an ex of some sort. Trying to ignore him simply won't work, as we are the only other people in the laundromat, but somehow, we manage. As he violently hangs up, mutters a name for a disagreeable female and stomps outside, Habibi and I exchange glances. Weirded out!!!!!!! Poor person on the other end of the phone. Poor crazy, yelling guy. Something must be up.
A calm but slightly nervous man enters the laundromat. We look up and see that it is the same character who had, just a moment ago, been irate with someone over something that seemed rather serious. He startles us a bit by apologizing that we had to hear him yelling on the phone but "it's all for her." We both look down as he holds out the most precious, fuzzy, brown bunny. Good move, strange man! Who can be mad or offended when one of nature's most adorable creatures is present??? "My mom is so selfish," he says. He goes on to tell us a little more about his living situation, his family dysfunction (Boy I guess so, if you drop the f-bomb on your mom and use similar language to address her!) but that "Cocoa Puff is worth it."
I am sad for this man, for his mom and for whatever their situation entails, but that is the cutest damn animal I have ever seen. Cocoa Puff.
OK, so maybe I won't balk so much next time we have to drag ourselves to the laundromat, but I still want our own washing machine. Cocoa Puff is welcome to come over any time.
Fast forward a couple of years and nothing has really changed. Although we do, in fact, own a toaster (because what red-blooded American doesn't like toast?), neither of us is really all that interested in home ownership. Despite all of this, there is one aspect of being a home owning American that appeals to me: a washing machine.
Since our marriage two years ago, we have lived in two different apartments, both of which have coin operated laundry facilities in the building, but no option of installation of a W/D in the individual units. For those of you who have experienced this sort of living situation, it isn't particularly dream worthy. (First World Problem, anyone?) Walking up and down flights of stairs every 30 minutes, hauling a heaping basket of clothes and praying that you have sufficient quarters (and that you don't biff it on the staircase) is far less desirable than just being able to toss something in the wash when you need it. Finding dead, mangled silverfish in your freshly "washed" shirt isn't very reassuring. A flooded basement that prohibits entrance to the laundry room makes for a week of digging through the dirty clothes. As a working adult, I resent the patronizing screech of the ancient dryer in my apartment basement. I am a grown-up, for crying out loud! I should not be having PTSD-esque flashbacks of college when I was so poor I could afford to use only the washer or the dryer, and was forced to hang clothes around my room. (You should see our apartment now...we literally have clothes drying in every room.) What of the nightmares of my living situation in France where my sink was my washer? Needless to say, I want W/D capabilities in our next home.
However, loading up the car and hauling everything to the local laundromat is certainly not without a certain charm. For instance, the place where Habibi and I do our laundry on occasion is just up the street and is always filled with all sorts of characters! I mean no disrespect when I say this, but there is a certain demographic that congregates at laundromats in my part of the country. Who would not melt after seeing the fluffy little puppy come in (despite the "no animals allowed" sign) with her blingy mom and mustachioed dad? How is watching some slightly creepy, tattooed guy lift up his girlfriend's son by the feet and try to stuff him headfirst into a washing machine not entertaining? (The kid was giggling, by the way.) In fact, tonight's experience holds a demented appeal all of its own....
Enter a middle aged man in a cutoff t-shirt, enraged about something and swearing profusely into his phone. Surely, there must be some sort of domestic dispute between him and an ex of some sort. Trying to ignore him simply won't work, as we are the only other people in the laundromat, but somehow, we manage. As he violently hangs up, mutters a name for a disagreeable female and stomps outside, Habibi and I exchange glances. Weirded out!!!!!!! Poor person on the other end of the phone. Poor crazy, yelling guy. Something must be up.
A calm but slightly nervous man enters the laundromat. We look up and see that it is the same character who had, just a moment ago, been irate with someone over something that seemed rather serious. He startles us a bit by apologizing that we had to hear him yelling on the phone but "it's all for her." We both look down as he holds out the most precious, fuzzy, brown bunny. Good move, strange man! Who can be mad or offended when one of nature's most adorable creatures is present??? "My mom is so selfish," he says. He goes on to tell us a little more about his living situation, his family dysfunction (Boy I guess so, if you drop the f-bomb on your mom and use similar language to address her!) but that "Cocoa Puff is worth it."
I am sad for this man, for his mom and for whatever their situation entails, but that is the cutest damn animal I have ever seen. Cocoa Puff.
OK, so maybe I won't balk so much next time we have to drag ourselves to the laundromat, but I still want our own washing machine. Cocoa Puff is welcome to come over any time.
Awwwww, Cocoa Puff, that's precious. I was thisclose to getting Mandarin or Jambalaya last weekend and hiding him/her in my apartment, but I didn't think I could pull it off -- but the Humane Society apparently had lots of other soft-hearted people come out, as they went from an overcapacity 200+ cats to only 30 left for adoption, thanks to lots of other families. Yay pet lovers, even if they drop F-bombs on their moms!
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