For the life of me, I don't understand why simple things are made so difficult. It seems as though everything that seems as though it should be one of the ordinary tasks of modern culture, but there is always a wrinkle. There is always something getting in the way of simplicity, of efficiency.
I like doing things with as few steps as possible, I think that being efficient is one of those qualities that makes people different from each other. Some people like to take their time with their life, to stop and smell the roses. There are those who break down each step to the simplest degree and make certain that they understand every facet before they move on to the next one. Experience in life has taught me that certain things do not need to be analyzed. I do not need the instructions to tell me to plug in my new gadget, or to charge the battery. Those are things that are inherent in today's lifestyle. I am of the belief that the best way to do something may also be the simplest, and taking the pragmatic and learned way eliminates many extra steps. That elimination of steps leads to more efficiency. Small steps are the foundation of everything. Because of that, they can be skipped, as they are already rote in my mind.
All this being said, Why is doing my laundry such a pain in the sack? It seems as though ever since I have been on my own, I have been in a battle with the Universe over the cleaning of my clothes. I always find a way to get them washed, but it seems as though there is something that creates a wrinkle in the relatively smooth plan of doing laundry.
When I was living at Blitzkrieg, the washing machine spent years being dodgy. Sometimes it would work fine, and others it wouldn't. It had a habit of flooding the basement, when everyone who lived in that house did everything in their power to avoid that trick. Of course, when the washer was behaving itself, the next obstacle would be getting your wet clothes to the dryer. This was only a challenge because the dryer was clear on the other side of the basement, and there was a maze of asbestos and mold to navigate. The carcinogen count in that basement must have been astronomical. There was a pile of asbestos dust next to the cans of lead paint and dead air conditioners.
Eventually the one of the machines would die off, and be sent to the washing machine graveyard in the corner of the basement. When that would happen, I would be forced to the laundromat down the street. This isn't such a big deal, I suppose, other than the fact that I would have to walk to it, as I was without a car at that point in my life. I have no real qualms with the laundromat. I do hate the people who go there, though. There are the ones who wash their sneakers, one pair to a machine and dryer. I can understand wanting your shoes to be bright, but when they are black, I don't see the purpose. There are those who have piles and piles of wash. Are they doing the wash for their entire building? How many weeks worth of clothes is this? Children would run around without supervision, fighting with each other. This isn't Chuck E Cheese.
All I wanted to do was get my wash done in the simplest way possible, and maybe get some reading in. Every other trip to this particular slice of Hell would end with me trudging home, frustrated. But then we got our washer fixed, and I was able to run out my days in that house doing wash in the basement. The cancerous, vile basement that lacked enough light to do anything at night and the neighbors who were too interesting in what I was doing for my liking.
I thought that all of this nonsense would change once I moved. I lived in a house that had, much like the place that I moved out of, had a washer and dryer in the basement. The washer was new and fancy. it sounded like a jet engine when it spun. It was awesome. Know what isn't awesome? The dryer was broken. I couldn't dry anything. There was no clothesline, so I couldn't even hang my drawers outside for the world to see. I would have liked that. Instead of drying my clothes like a human, I was forced to bring the pile of wet clothes back to my room and splay them out on shelves and other places so they could air dry. My room was on the 3rd floor and it was summer, so heat was never a problem. The problem was my entire life would smell like wet cotton for 3 days after everything was dry. No fun.
So I move again. I move to a place that has one washer and one dryer for the entire floor. There is my apartment, a dude next to me, and a family with small children on the other side. Small children who wear cloth diapers. Goddamit. The machines cost a buck apiece, which is cheaper than the laundromat. The problem here is that the damn family seemed to do laundry 6 days a week, and those days rotated randomly, so I had to guess when the machines would be available. At all hours of day and night, they would be up and down the hall with baskets of clothes. They must have a Macy's worth of clothes in their apartment. The children would run, loudly, up and down the hall. Children this small should not sound like a fat person when they run.
Then the fun began. The washing machine started to go wonky. It wouldn't fill. Then it wouldn't turn on. Then it wouldn't stop running (a month worth of free laundry was nice). Then the landlord raised the price to $2.00 for each machine. Then the washer wouldn't start. Then I gave up. I went back, tail fixed firmly between my legs, to the laundromat. But this time it wasn't so bad. I was able to do my wash without harassment and with relative ease. There were still the dryer hogs, but I was able to get one and get out with a minimum of anguish.
Last weekend I heard something. It sounded a lot like the washing machine in the hallway. I was confused. It was broken, but it works now. Has it cured itself? Did something happen that I didn't know about? Did the washer fairies come through and magic it back to health? WHAT THE FUCK IS GOING ON????
I was intrigued. I payed the two dollars and ran the washer, with nothing in it. It worked fine. I got happy. I did some laundry. It was easy. Everything worked, and even though it was a little pricey, I am in no condition to drive right now, so the convenience of this fixed marvel is work the extra money.
Something good happened. Who the hell am I to question it?
SD
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