I did something uniquely New York today. Well, maybe it happens in other cities. Just not in cities I’ve lived in.
In any case, I paid someone else do my laundry for me. It feels so extravagant. I might never do my own laundry again. I mentioned this to a friend who’s been in New York for a while now. She seemed surprised I’ve been here five months and still did my own laundry.
Everyone does that, she told me. You’re a busy New Yorker. You don’t have time to sit at the laundromat. You could be writing or taking a nap or going to Williamsburg with friends – which is what we were doing while my laundry was being washed for me back in Midtown.
It was sure nice to stop at the wash & fold place across the street and hand over my debit card. Sunday’s soccer clothes, the cotton dress I wore all day Saturday and my undies were all clean and neatly folded in a perfect rectangle, all set for me to sweat through during the upcoming heat wave.
For the low, low price of $10 (over what I would have paid at the laundromat), I had time to eat my way through “WillyB” with a friend (beer, meatballs and ice cream), and now I’m writing. Not bad! Of course, things would be different if all my dreams came true and I found a building with laundry in it. Or, dare I even believe it’s possible, laundry in my unit.
I’m a journalist, content strategist, doting auntie, amateur bobsledder, fitness enthusiast, and wannabe health nut (who loves chocolate and pizza too much to fully commit). I don't want you to think my life is perfect. It's not.