Summary

In "Coming Clean at the Laundromat," Sherry McGuinn reflects on her personal journey of self-acceptance and the mundane yet cathartic experience of doing laundry at a laundromat, which serves as a metaphor for her own life's cycles and the process of cleansing oneself of past regrets.

Abstract

While waiting for her comforter to wash and dry at a bustling laundromat, McGuinn engages in introspection, confronting her hypocrisy and the toll of joblessness. She grapples with the monotony of her routine, the relentless self-reproach, and the impact of her past actions. The laundromat becomes a sanctuary for reflection, prompting her to consider the possibility of extending forgiveness and kindness to herself, paralleling the cleansing process of the laundry. The experience leads to a moment of peace and a renewed perspective on her life's journey, suggesting that self-forgiveness and softness are essential for personal growth.

Opinions

McGuinn acknowledges her hypocrisy in mocking people for behaviors she now exhibits herself, such as mindlessly scrolling through social media while waiting at the laundromat.
She expresses frustration with her former employer, blaming them for her two-year joblessness and the resulting changes in her daily routine.
The author views the laundromat as a place of reflection, where the repetitive cycles of washing and drying mirror the cycles of life and self-renewal.
McGuinn is critical of her own tendency to dwell on past mistakes, likening it to a relentless badger that ignores the pain of self-reproach.
She finds a sense of ease and peace in the act of doing nothing, which is unusual for her typically restless nature.
The scent of clean laundry evokes a sense of newness and absence of reproach for McGuinn, symbolizing a fresh start and the resilience of coming back to life after each wash.
The author suggests that it might be time for her to be gentler and more forgiving towards herself, drawing a parallel between the softening of fabric in the wash and the softening of her own self-perception.

Coming Clean at the Laundromat

A mini soap opera.

The gleaming, super-sized washer gobbles up our over-sized comforter like a python sucks down a bullfrog. It is oddly satisfying to see how perfectly they fit together.

Looking around, I see that this is a large room. Clean and bright and filled with the hum of washers, driers and people intent on this most basic of tasks.

They fold, and sort and scold their little kids who chase one another with the type of glee normally reserved for a Chuck E. Cheese.

Finding a seat near the window, as far from the tumult as possible, I plop down and like a robot, pull out my phone, grimacing as I recollect how I used to make fun of the very people who do what I now, too, am doing.

I am a hypocrite.

Nothing exciting in Gmail or Facebook or LinkedIn or Twitter or any number of sites that I interact with on a daily basis. The same talking heads talking the same shit.

How this constant searching and scrolling has become such a big part of my life, I couldn’t really say, except to tell you that being jobless for two years has taken its toll…thank you, former employer, you soulless fucker.

I am now a virtual human.

Soon, I am bored with my phone and as the comforter spins around and round my eyes are drawn to the circuits that remind me of time, an unending wheel for everything on this earth but we creatures who eventually break down like so much compost.

Strangely, I start to feel at ease, at peace with myself for sitting without doing, which, is strange indeed for someone who is perpetually restless. Someone who can’t be “mindful” because her mind doesn’t permit it.

But then my creepy-crawly brain kicks into overdrive and all the bad things I’ve ever done or said wash over me like the water coursing through the rinse cycle. When it comes to self-reproach, I am relentless, like a badger trundling through a bee hive –impervious to the stings.

Why did I do/say/think that? I am not a bad person.

The washer has stopped, the light is off and it’s time to collect more quarters as making change is a diversion I welcome at this particular point in time. My dollar bills are crinkly. Like me, they’ve been around the block a few times. I have to smooth them over and over with my hands before they give in and let the machine swallow them up.

I take my sweet-smelling comforter and my quarters and head to one of the few driers that isn’t in use. It’s a busy day here at the laundromat. Cleanliness is next to Godliness, after all.

Before loading the dryer, I briefly bury my face in the lavender-vanilla-scented fabric. It smells so clean, so new, so without reproach. I’m not wearing makeup, so there’s no chance of sullying its pristine shell.

As I sit back down for the first twelve minutes of the drying cycle, the scent of the fabric softener lingers on my person…trails behind me like the lingering smoke of a dying campfire.

I raise my hand to my face and sniff. They smell sweet, clean, like my comforter which isn’t new, but, after every wash, puts on a brave face and comes back to life like the quality item it is. I can’t wait to put it on the bed.

It’s raining outside. Windy and blustery. As I sprint to my car, I glance back at the neon sign: Laundromat/Lavenderia and think —

Maybe it’s time I softened to myself.

Sherry McGuinn is a longtime Chicago-area writer and award-winning screenwriter. Her work has appeared in The Chicago Tribune, Chicago Sun-Times and numerous other publications. Sherry’s manager is currently pitching her newest screenplay, a drama with dark, comedic overtones and inspired by a true story.

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