The year is winding down, and so I have a few extra minutes a day to explore and enjoy new music. My playist landed on Bombadil’s “Laundromat”. What is our fascnination with laundromat romance? I remember how I used to go to the laundromat on Sundays to wash my clothes and read and I think I always harboured a fantasy that there would be some guy, preferbly one that was reading something awesome like “Architecture of Happiness” , and then after weeks of somehow being on the same schedule we would finally succumb to curiosity and start talking. We would be the perfect halves of each other and spend time together doing mundane things in the most extroadinary way in a fast-paced montage of utter unbearable happiness.
What is so dreamy about people coming together in a somewhat clinical public place to actually do something quite private, which frankly, is a bit of a tedious chore. According to Bro Bible, a laundromat is the no.1 idealised romantic spot which isn’t actually romantic. I have never met anyone interesting in a laundromat and in the hours I have spent there, I have only really noticed the hurried actions of people who just wanted to get the job done and go home. No one else sat there reading and watching the way I did. No one else seemed to be seeking connection.
I guess the theme here is connection. That ever evasive thing that we all crave and that tender place where most of us malfunction in the most spectacular way. We all just want someone to wash our dirty laundry with and to have us be seen as beautiful an exquisite, even if it is in over-lit fluorescent light while we’re wearing that outfit we only ever wear when there’s nothing else left. When we have no special pretence on offer.
This morning I showed my housemate how to find his way around the quirks of my washing machine. Our little laundromat fits inside a box in the men’s wing of our blue and white house and has laundry bins stacked on top of it like in a dorm. I have no romantic aspirations in our house. I am the mom of the house however our house has the chaos of comfort and family. It may be freaking me out at times, but on the inside deep deep far far down where the OCD ghouls are too afraid to go, where the true inside of me lives, there is a knowing that this is exactly what I need.
The challenge is not so much, I think, to find connection as it is to be connectable. To not be a smooth and perfect surface that life can just slip off of, but to be a little scoured and rough enough for the glue to take.
Image is not my own: For source click here from “The Lowly but Lovely Toronto Laundromat”