The Chair Situation

March tenth. The laundromat on a Sunday morning is a very specific exercise in letting go of expectations, and the main expectation I let go of was that I would find a chair.

Simone had suggested we just go together, her building's machines had been out since Thursday, and I'd been putting it off since the week before, which meant I was carrying an embarrassingly large bag down the block by the time she texted. We got there at the same time, which felt efficient and adult. She found the one open plastic chair within forty-five seconds of walking in. I put my bag in a machine, stood at the folding counter, and accepted my fate.

There is something about the laundromat that flattens everything. It doesn't matter what else is happening in your week, you are here now, with a dryer that has eleven minutes left and absolutely nowhere to be except exactly where you are. I stood at the counter for a while. Simone sat in her chair. Neither of us was pretending this was anything other than what it was.

eleven minutes remaining

A second chair opened up eventually, which felt like a small victory. We sat in them side by side with paper cups of coffee from the place next door and talked about nothing pressing, she asked if I'd looked at the community center spring brochure yet, I said I hadn't, she made the face she makes when she already knows the answer. The dryers ran. The window went from grey to slightly less grey. It was a perfectly ordinary Sunday and I have nothing more interesting to report than that.

eventually a second chair became available