Every once in a while there are those periods where my life resembles an episode of Lucy or the Lucy Show. Last week for instance: my ancient washing machine died. While I awaited the visit of the repairman (who gave me the diagnosis) i knocked a beer glass off the counter and it broke. I had to vacuum up glass. Then my cheap sunglasses fell and broke. This was all in the space of an hour. At those times I simply go WWWAAAAAAAAAAAH! and channel Lucille Ball.
The transmission on the ancient machine is gone and now, in addition to apartment hunting, I now have to traipse around looking for places to do laundry. Unfortunately, my neigbhourhood is not exactly blessed with laundromats. The nearest is several blocks away, which means lugging heavy bags of laundry on a bus. I also go to my mother's and use her machine. This is not exactly how I intended to spend the month of April but after a very busy work month in march, I had already decided to slow down a bit. I am looking for an apartment and now, I have to find a rock on which to beat my washing.
The long, glum winter was also fraught with domestic disasters: a noisy valve somewhere in the building kept me up at nights in January. My phone service crapped out for three days in February. Now I'm a wandering Laundry Jew.
Of course, I could always look on the BRIGHT side, as everyone insists you do when your life just sucks canal water. The machine didn't blow up and flood the place or start a fire (Sitting amidst a flood of suds- that would have been Lucy!). It's not winter so all that shlepping around won't be in the freezing cold. And I have at least three places I can do laundry. Which is what I'll be doing tonight. Laundromat on a saturday night. That's not Lucy, that's the potential serial killer on Law and Order SVU.
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