People Watching: Cottage Country Part Two

Today we came to a point where laundry could not be put off any longer–that is if we didn’t want to wear our bathing suits all day. (Speaking of which, I think I’m famous now as a tourist took a picture of me in my bathing suit. I’m so hot. Or maybe it is because it is overcast and dreary and I was crazy enough to be swimming while the big steamship went by.) Anyway, we went to the laundromaut.

The laundromaut is always good people watching, but it is even more so in cottage country. There are those who are uber-efficient and those who just go through it as another part of life. And then there are those who turn the whole place on its head and serve as entertainment for everyone. (Of course, there are those who waltz in and pay the attendent huge sums of money to do their laundry for them. As in about $7 for a small load and about $17 for a large load. I kid you not.)

Today, we lucked out and landed us some entertainment. There was a lady there who claimed that the washing machine at her cottage ‘blew up’. Just getting change from the change machine seemed like more than she could handle. She had to ask my husband about 80 questions regarding that. All amusing. Then she called me over to clarify how much money she needed for the machines and what denominations. Of course, apologising about having interrupted me–because watching the stuff go round and round in the dryer is so vitally important and I really should not have been disturbed. Naturally she stated loudly about not knowing how laundromauts worked and how she didn’t understand the attendent’s washing pricing. (Honey, it’s for people who don’t ask the cost, they just want to come back when their laundry is done. Money means nothing when it comes to not having to wash your own undies.)

The talk about coinage seemed to have been helpful and soon she was calling me over again–with no compunction–I am her peon after all–to drill me about how much poundage each machine could take? (Poundage? Does she really think laundromautians speak in poundage?) She then progressed to, were all the machines the same? How full could you make them? Could you fit 20 towels in each machine? I informed her that in order to get a good wash, you wanted to ensure that the water, which only came up so high in the machine, covered everything you put in there. Ah, yes, Head nod. What about these huge machines? Well, those are best for comforters, or really big loads. ($5 a load. Ouch.) And how long do all the machines take? I pointed out the timers, wondering just how many questions one person could ask–and didn’t she have eyes in her head? By this point I began telling her about the laundromaut in the nearby town that offers free coffee and popcorn and cheap wash on Mondays. And bit my tongue before I offered up–unasked–where the local Maytag dealership was.

So, anyway, she did manage to get her laundry in because by the time we were dwe were leaving she was asking her mother who stood around just as lost looking if the attendent would mind putting her stuff in the dryer if she left. Sure, for a cost. Oh yes, and then her children ran out onto the street.

That poor lady was probably having her worst day ever. As for me, a moment or two I won’t quickly forget, but for different reasons.