I always add the quarter when the washing machine requests it. It blinks at me, and in goes the coin, making two and a half loads an even three dollars. I’m not sure what the extra quarter does–an extra rinse? An extra spin? I’ve never found out.
Usually I wash on Monday or Tuesday, forgetting the nursery rhyme which goes, Wash on Monday,
Iron on Tuesday, Bake on Wednesday, Brew on Thursday, Churn on Friday, Mend on Saturday, Go to meeting on Sunday. According the website I got this from, the first thing the women did after deboarding the Mayflower was the wash. But what did they brew on Thursday? Cider? Beer? Tea, with their feet up, aprons and caps off?
The laundromat I go to is a relatively quiet one–no pingpong or TV no popcorn. I sometimes pop next door to the bakery during the dryer and grab a cappuccino. Yes, I do. It’s a bit glam, but not as if I were in black evening wear as a friend of mine used to don during her wash day, as all her day clothes were in the machine. I could get dressed up a bit more, because who knows who you will meet? But I slip outside, and grab the capp, check my watch and see I have another half-hour. I go the grocery store, beg some quarter change just in case, and find I’m late anyway. Only on rare occasions is the mean woman there, the one glares because she was just about to dump your clothes out. If you are really lucky, you won’t be holding the capp at this point, looking like a complete airhead. It’s amazing how quickly glam disappears.