a vivid memory remains in this newly forgetful brain of mine. i remember being taught how to operate the washing machine and clothes dryer. two adults and four children sharing a home adds up to some serious piles of laundry. our laundry room was in the basement. it was dark there. it was cold and scary. but i was thrilled to be given this very adult knowledge. finally i was deemed mature enough to operate appliances! the truth is, my mother couldn't keep up with it on her own and frankly just needed us to wash our own damn clothes. the first few times down in our strange smelling underground basement i maintained that tinge of excitement. one day i realized i was merely doing laundry. it was a chore and it was not fun.
fast forward to present and you would find me with just that slight new adventure glow of one who lives in the "big city" and has to go to the laundromat. a magical place where (if i'm to believe television and movies) philisophical conversations and romantic song montages are acted out. the first time is so strange and new it doesn't seem like an item on the to-do list. then comes the day i fight for a dryer. the moment i realize my quarters are still at home...catch the creepy guy staring at me as i show the world my dirty underwear. the moment arrives when it's just a chore to get done and i can't even do it in the privacy of my own home.