Mar. 3, 2008 at 3:29pm
I finally could ignore the laundry no longer. We were out of dishtowels, were using dog towels on our own bodies, the kid had no pants, and the second duvet in two weeks had been yogurt-ed on(yeah, the kid was eating strawberries and yogurt in bed when she was sick, so sue me); I looked closer and noticed the sheets and a tee shirt (not mine) had been Diet Dr Pepper-ed on. Kid? Mate? Who knew. All I knew was, it was nasty, nasty, nasty, and I can't live like that. So, without further ado the bed was stripped, and the car was filled with more than a couple of weeks of stinky, dirty laundry.
At Cavanaugh's getting my morning motivation, I was told to give The Laundry Mart a try. It's located on 6th Ave across from KMart, between Artco and Comcast. The magic words "they have super capacity washers" compelled my car to that direction, and I was pleased to see that indeed, the space is clean, large, and has many many mega-ultra capacity machines. I filled three of the six- load machines, two of the four-load machines, and nearly wept at the resulting total (somewhere in the realm of $35.)
But one nice thing about the Laundry Mart is that the washing machine transactions take place via card-swipe (it's a card you load up yourself, rather like a copy card I had at college. BUT note: this is a bills-only laundromat; they don't take plastic except through the ATM machine, and the machine that dispenses the cards only takes bills.)
Also nice: that the place is, well, nice! It's clean, the staffer was friendly, and then the owner came in and helped me out to my car with my 2 filled baskets and 4 bags (I had already dealt with the bedding, as that was dry first.) The space has some huge folding tables, snacks and beverages, a Simpson's video game as well as pinball and some hunting video game thing, plus a flat-panel TV belting out super-testosterone-ated ESPN. Yeah, it's a bit surreal to flash a leopard print thong and lacy underthings, alongside hole-riddled granny pants while Kobe Bryant is discussed ad nauseum, but hey... whatever. I live for this kind of random.
All told, it was a four-hour time-suck of an experience, BUT my laundry is all cleaned, folded, and dry, patiently awaiting being put away. I won't have to worry about innocently putting on a fleece only to be gagged by the musty odor of death-mold due to inadequate drying time.
It's a good thing.
comments  | posted under Laundry, leopard-print thong underwear, TacomaComments
by HD on 3/3/2008 @ 4:52pm
|Has anyone toyed with the idea of a Tacoma sitandspin?
If there is room on sixth, someone needs to start this up.
by jcbetty on 3/3/2008 @ 7:24pm
|sitandspin, like a bar/laundromat? I think there was an attempt in Seattle, not too long ago (like, within the last decade) but I think it went tits up. Or I don't know what I'm talking about (always a distinct possibility.)
I was thinking about all the different permutations on "laundromat" that would make such a timesuck become... appealing, and I came up with:
-Laundry and mani/pedi (wouldn't work, who'd want to muck up the perfect manicure with hot laundry folding?)(then again, a pedi wouldn't get mucked up.)
-Laundry and a wifi coffee shop (yep, yep, yep, for so many reasons)
-Laundry and an indoor playground a'la Odyssey (heaven for those with kids, hell for those without)
-Laundry and an indoor dogpark-- Fido and Sparky get to have a droolin' good time while you clean the covers of all the couches they've mucked up..
-Laundry and beer (call it Suds... beautiful, that!)
-Laundry and a wine bar (not so great, for a few obvious reasons: as you go to get the nose on a beautiful Malbec, the Downey smell wafts through the rumbling room, you set the glass down and it spills all over the freshly laundered whites...)
Then there's the whole laundry and a singles bar thing. I think it's doomed from the start-- she'll be horrified as she realizes he washed darks with whites, he'll be horrified when he sees her slightly stained granny underpants... Here's the sweet gal who just wants to take Joe laundrophobe under her wing, showing him how to do it as he acts inept, she tsk tsks, and takes over for him just as he finds the gal who belongs to the lacy underthings spinning in the other dryer... Oh, the drama... (not to mention drink, feel lazy: go home lose all industry and you're still left foraging for clothes with a hangover. Only, your foraging through clean clothes (which may or may not be yours, depending on what state you were in as you left the 'mat.)
musing her way through arts, culture, dining, shopping, exercising, and parenting, all while wearing a pungent, truffle-like aroma.