Sitting in front of the washing machine

When I was in grad school and a postdoc, I spent a few hours every couple weeks in the laundromat, watching my clothes get washed. In Berkeley, my local laundromat was across the street from my neighborhood pub, Bison Brewery (alas no longer there), and was that odd combination of harshly-lit yet dingy, of formerly-shiny surfaces and simple lines that once shouted "I'm Clean and Modern!" but now grumble "i haven't been updates since the first Johnson Administration."

Once we got our own washer and dryer in our house, I figured those days were over. But no, I'm now sitting in front of the washing machine, seeing if it leaks. I just had some repair guys come and look at it, and after checking out the hoses, connections, and other mechanical usual suspects, they concluded that the washing machine leaked because... it wasn't level. I could also replace the door hinge for $130 if I felt like it.

So, I've got half a load in there, and am waiting to see what happens.

Thank goodness for iTunes. And YouTube.

Though to be honest, sitting here reminds me less of my Early Days, than the laundromat scene in A Pocket for Corduroy. I've read that book about a thousand times in the last seven years. Memorized children's books and responsibility for the hydraulic integrity of appliances. What strange things mark you as an adult.

[To the tune of Yes, "Roundabout," from the album "Yessongs (Disc 1)".]