Hey, Kids...We're Going To The Laundromat!

Jeff finally finished teaching summer school last week, and we were supposed to go on a previously scheduled, long and relaxing camping vacation this week.

Not gonna happen.

All kinds of craziness has unfolded in the Frump household since he's been off, and as it turns out the only one going on vacation from our home... is our washing machine.

It was acting up a couple of weeks ago, threatening to go on strike. Again.

We appeased it by giving it much smaller work loads.

But after a couple of weeks, it acted as though that was still too much work for it to handle, and made sounds like it was going to quit altogether. Dug in it's heels, hotly agitated to the point of burning rubber.

I believe it even went so far as to hold secret, middle-of-the-night talks with our other household appliances, because now the Ice Maker in our freezer is shirking it's duty, too.

My corny remarks from a couple of weeks ago are coming back to haunt me. Because now...ain't nothin' comin' down the chute of the handy-dandy ice dispenser in the freezer door.

It's holding back, I tell you...not contributing it's fair share to the running of this household!

I'm about ready to dissolve the local appliance union and get rid of the whole lot of 'em. The work ethic of yesteryear is lost on these modern day models.

Automatic ice makers are convenient, yes, but contrary to their sole purpose of making and dispensing ice aren't exactly...indispensable.

Ice is easy enough to make with a few discount store plastic ice-cube trays. Trays that remain loyal little workhorses for many, many years, I might add. (I'll not be deterred by some obnoxious little upstart of an appliance trying to freeze me out!)

The laundry, however, is another story.

To go 'manual' with the Frump household laundry would not be pretty.

Even if I had a washboard or a kettle big enough to boil jeans, and even if there was a creek running through my back yard, trying to wash 10 loads of laundry (and 2 down comforters that still need to be put away for winter) there would take more energy than I have left after chasing after my toddler all day long.

Yep, it would all be laughably out of the question. I'm no Laura Ingalls, and I'd be the first to admit it.

Our washing machine is well aware of the fact that we're completely dependant upon it, and mocks us from it's special room in the house, holding court with it's more useful mate the dutiful dryer.

Let it sit there, I say!

If it can't hang with us through the tough times, helping to carry some of the work load around here when we need it the most, then I'm afraid we're going to have to get rid of it. Cut it out like an unfruitful vine.

There is no room in this household for appliances that are not team players, and call us snooty, but going without clean socks and underwear are sacrifices my family members are simply not willing to make.

So, on that note, we did something we haven't done since we were newlywed apartment dwellers... and took a little trip to the local laundromat.

And let me tell you, it was quite an eye-opening experience.

Rather like a trip to the DMV. Or maybe the bowling alley.

There are many in our community that are rather...lax in their definition of what clothes are, but come on, people! Pajamas should only be worn to bed.

In the privacy of one's home.

And garmets formerly-known-as-pajamas should never be seen by another living soul.

Under no circumstances should they ever be worn by middle-aged balding men with beer bellies and long braids hanging down the backs of ill-fitting, threadbare t-shirts that read such things as "Will work for Beer" and "One tequila, two tequila, three tequila, floor."

Have you no dignity people? No sense of shame?

Now I realize that being in a laundromat probably means you're down to your last couple of items of clean clothing, but surely...surely even the sparsest of wardrobes would include something more suitable for covering one's self sufficiently in public. Say something like a NASCAR jacket and sweatpants. Or perhaps a rarely worn dress shirt and slacks. Or some coveralls. Or a toga.

Something more modest? Please?

In light of that observation, I was totally unprepared for the phenomenon that took place when we entered that establishment.

Something along the lines of "When in Rome do as the Romans do..." began to unfold before my very eyes, my own family betraying me.

Normally, I would have insisted upon model behavior from our children, especially being in an unfamiliar place and in a rush to get all the laundry into the machines so that they would all finish up at approximately the same time.

A major feat, especially with children dodging back and forth and around you, playing with (and dropping) the quarters you need to insert quickly and efficiently into each machine if you are to manage to keep on schedule.

And there is a schedule to be met, people. An unspoken laundromat 'rule' of sorts that must be followed. Because those coming in after you are depending on you to get your business there done quickly so they can do theirs.

You must keep moving forward at all costs. Load, measure detergent, insert quarters, push buttons, slam lids. Move. Repeat.

And when I finally caught my breath after this relay of sorts, I looked up to see Jericho sprawled across the top of a washing machine playing his DS.

After watching the other children in that place running pell-mell down the aisles, I knew a losing battle when I saw one.

Judah couldn't believe his good fortune at getting to play in the square 'shopping' carts with the clothing rack across the top. He reached for that bar and said, "I need to do po-upth, mama."

Because, as you know, everyone who comes to a laundromat needs to do pull-ups while waiting for their wash.

Jericho delighted in racing up and down the aisle with Judah in said laundry cart, bed-racer style, and of course little brother shrieked with glee.

As for being allowed to climb around on the washers and the folding area counter, dividing his time between running up and down the length of said counter and clambering across the tops of the bank of washing machines on the other side, well, lets just say he took full advantage of it.

Equally enjoyable was making a 'tchoo tchoo twain' out of the laundry baskets while waiting for the dryers to work their 1/2 hour magic.

Are you all aware of the fact that there are large-family, front-loading washing machines out there that are capable of washing 3 baskets full of clothes all at once?

And ginormous dryers that can handle drying whatever you throw at them...all in less than one hour from start to finish?

This is huge, people!

Three loads. Washed and dried. One hour.

Knowing now that there are machines available that could shave off well over two-thirds the usual time and effort it takes to wash and dry my household laundry, how am I to contentedly toil away at home, babying along one paltry load at a time all-day-long, every day of the week?

It kind of makes me think the laundromat industry is holding out on us. Keeping a tight lid on it's closely guarded trade secrets.

Secrets that could be a revolutionary breakthrough for one of the most dreaded and time-consuming household chores ever.

Because to my knowledge, those particular brands aren't for sale at Lowe's or Home Depot.

And to think, all this technology exists out there, largely untapped by millions and millions of households across this land...all but wasted on people that need directions like these to simply dry a load of clothes! (Get a 'load' of the first one on the list, lol.)

The funniest part of all was that you'd have thought we took the kids to Chuck E. Cheese for all the fun they had there. With spare coins to be found in washing machines and dryers, the coin return slots on the vending machines and remote corners of the chipped up linoleum floor...who could ask for anything more?

I was just glad to get out of there with my dignity intact.

Because somehow, while waiting for my clothes to dry, I was overcome by the strangest compulsion to change into my most threadbare pj's and munch on Choco Tacos while scratching off a couple of lotto tickets from the liquor store next door.

And though he'd deny it heartily, I'm pretty sure Jeff was itching to go use the payphone outside the door to call someone he knew and argue loudly enough to be heard by all the patrons inside.

Ahhh, the laundromat. Great entertainment for the entire family.