Friday, December 7, 2007

Normally Depressing Laundrymat Undergoes Surprisingly Inoffensive Holiday Makeover

My local laundrymat is run by a squadron of short, broad Spanish women and one white-haired man. The women do the washing and folding in back, so you don't really see them. Instead, you see the man. He wanders silently around the front of the store, always in a pair of those high waisted farmer jeans, the kind with cuffs wide enough to cover work boots. He carries a spray bottle and wash rag. It's a little unclear what exactly his job is. He dusts the tops of the machines, mops the floors, and endlessly sprays the leaves of the robust spider plants hanging from the ceiling.

Today, after a good three weeks of procrastination, J and I finally bit the bullet and hauled our fifty pounds of laundry to the mat, only to discover that it had been completely transformed. It seems the silent man has another, more creative responsibility.

Decoration.

I mean, just look at this:

And this:

Here, he's hand-stringing Christmas bulbs onto fishing wire to tack in necklaces from the fluorescent lights:

I mean, have you ever seen a more focused, more detailed, more thorough seventy-year-old male Christmas decorator?

I'm not complaining though. I'm generally not a fan of cheesy Christmas decorations, but when done with such enthusiasm, such flourish, such stern-mouthed passion, they completely win me over.

So thank you, silent laundry man, for keeping depression at bay with your unsmiling Christmas cheer and extensive Santa collection.

6 comments:

Justin said...

It must be nice to do laundry at a rate whereby every seventh time you do it, it's Christmas.

c. g. said...

i think you guys should bring the guy a nice ornament to add to his collection.

Anonymous said...

Ah, Laundry mats with character - I have spent many an hour in such places myself!

Rhea frequented a highly decorated laundry mat in Holyoke, but not as elaborate as this one. Now she lives above a laundry mat in East Hampton and, she couldn't be happier.

The best thing that ever happened to me was learning how to properly hand wash clothes. I learned from an old Italian woman. It was in Santa Lucia, the village your Aunt Paola grew up in, during the trip to Italy when Ted and Paola met.
Ted and I were the first Americans to visit Santa Lucia since the war.

I had no idea that my highly stained under garments were such a faux pas until this poor woman saw me trying to hang them on her clothes line. As you well know, laundry mats tend to make white clothes turn gray and stains simply set in deeper. By the time she was finished with her bar of magic soap and scrubbing brush my 15 pairs of multi colored Hanes bikini panties were strung across her yard looking cleaner then they had looked since the day I bought them. I also learned about the wonders of bleach from this kind woman.

The following year I was transformed into a Greek housewife. If you could only have have seen my whites !

I sometimes wonder if the topic of Americans and that guy Paola married ever comes up with the ladies in the village. I imagine my stained panties left quite an impression. I wonder if any other Americans (besides Ted's friends and family) have made it to Santa Lucia. If so, what kind of impression did their clothes line leave behind.

Anonymous said...

Grace trumps cheese every time. The guy's got genuine grace.

Anonymous said...

...this is hilarious... : )

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