Zen and the Art of Laundry

Shhhhhhhh! Don’t tell anyone, but I love going to the Laundromat. A bit weird, huh? I know most people find it an annoying chore, but for me it’s a bit like a trip to a spa. It’s one of the few indoor places that I can truly relax. Why? I don’t have to do anything there other than laundry. See I’m a hardcore, fidgety multitasker. I run on caffeine and it shows. I took up knitting simply so I could sit through an entire movie. Otherwise I would be pausing the DVD and popping up to do something every 20 minutes or so. I would get to the part in Last Life in the Universe where Kenji is cleaning blood off the wall and realize there was a spot on my work shirt that I had to treat where I bled after cutting myself on a rosebush. (Pause.) During the part in 6ixtynin9 where she’s buying a wicker trunk large enough to hide a body, I’d think about how I need sort through that stack of books on my trunk and get the donations ready for Goodwill. (Pause.) The kids in Nobody Knows will be watering the seeds they just planted and I think, “I wonder if my vegetable garden is dry?” (Pause.) You get the picture.

Things aren’t any better when I’m working here. During the course of this blog I will have checked the weather for SLO, (rain today, clearing tomorrow.) Rearranged the songs for the CD I’m about to burn (Cancion Del Mariachi needs to come after Farewell, not before.) Checked out the headlines on Google Desktop (“Charlie Sheen ordered away from Denise Richards.” Duh! “Rising gas prices hurt poor Americans most.” Double Duh!) Damn I need more coffee.

So when it’s off to the Laundromat I go with only a book or a magazine, it’s like a mini vacation from myself. Once I’ve tossed the clothes in the washer I can sit back and read. Just read. Those 20 minutes from wash to spin are a bit like a lazy afternoon on a warm summer’s day with not a care in the world. I read. I breathe. I read some more. Ahhhhh… Sure feels good. When it’s time to toss things in the dryer, I completely forgo the reading to simply watch the clothes tumble over each other creating an almost perfect Yin-Yang design. The hum of the machines makes me slightly sleepy. The furrow in my brow relaxes, my shoulders droop slightly as I lean against the running washer and relax. It’s just the laundry and me now. For the next 17 minutes all my frustrations, obsessions, complications vanish. Only the hum of the washer exists. Only the dull thud of the clothes in the dryer exists. Only my breath in and out exists. We have become one, my laundry and me. And until that dryer buzzer sounds, I have found my bliss.