Saturday at the Laundromat

My washing machine broke in January and I didn't fix it for six weeks, which is how I discovered Saturday mornings at the Suds & Duds laundromat.

There's a regular crowd. A grandmother who folds with military precision and gives tips nobody asked for. A college kid who studies organic chemistry on top of dryer twelve. A dad with twin toddlers who race laundry carts while he pretends not to see.

We talk while the machines spin. I learned how to get grass stains out of jeans and how to make a decent arroz con gandules. The owner plays salsa on a little speaker and occasionally dances with a mop.

My washing machine is fixed now. I still go some Saturdays, just with one load, just for the company and the warm smell of dryer sheets. My sister thinks I'm strange. Maybe. It's the most relaxing two hours of my week.