The Laundry Lady

I walked into my neighborhood’s on-campus laundry mat this past Saturday to find another resident also washing her clothes. Every Saturday morning that I have gone to do my laundry, this was the first time I had company there with me. The back side of the laundry room is where I usually do my laundry, but this time I decided to do it in the front where the other resident, Mrs. Nancy, was also doing her laundry. The washer machines usually have a tendency of taking my $1.25 and then not working, and this day I decided to ask her if the washer I was located at works properly.

“You have to insert the coins and then close the lid for it to work,” stated the 60ish-year-old woman with curly hair, high-waist jeans and bulky glasses.

I definitely already knew that, I just wanted to know if the washer would work correctly for me. To prevent my money from being taken, I thought it would be best to ask someone for a heads up; I was wrong.

“The machines have taken my money before and I had to contact the leasing office numerous of times about the problem,” I responded.

She appeared delighted with the conversation, and bragged that the laundry’s property management always makes sure to return patrons’ lost money and makes sure that the laundry mat is clean. It seemed as if I started a conversation that I couldn’t get my self out of.

“If you have any problems though, you should always call that laundry service number right there located on the wall. They normally will come out here to make sure every washer and dryer is working well,” Mrs. Nancy explained with a smile.

The conversation continued for 25 more minutes, and she continued to repeat the same things over and over again about how she has been living on the property for 18 years and how the management is very serious about pleasing its residents when it comes to the laundry mat. I slowly tried to ease my way out the door but she continued to blabber on. I started to feel uncomfortable and I felt like she could possibly be a crazy psycho woman. She persistently kept stuttering and glazing down at the ground while fumbling around with her hands.

“Just write a sign out and place it on the washer or dryer when ever it seems as if it is not in proper working condition,” she said as looked down at her hands. “It will let other residents know to not use it. Then call that laundry service number right on the wall to inform them about the problem.”

I felt like I had to get out of there because my head was spinning with her repetition.

“Well, thank you so very much for the vast amount of information you have just shared with me Mrs. Nancy,” I said, annoyed while I opened up the door to freedom. “I really appreciate it and it was nice meeting you.”

“Yes and if you need anything just call the laundry service number because usually the Match Point Apartment Office is really good with keeping up with these types of things,” she said.

“OK now, bye!”

I rapidly opened the exit door and

walked out with relief. I had

finally made it to freedom, but

now I feel like the lonely lady just

needed some company