cycle, that is.

So I rousted myself extra special early this A.M. so I could get my multiple loads of laundry going, only to discover after trundling/stumbling down the three flights of stairs with a very heavy laundry basket that the washer’s spin cycle is busted. The handwritten sign on the laundry room door states “Help is on the way.”

All I can say (well part of what I can say) is thanks for the big old head’s up Before I lugged down my dirty clothes!

Oh well. I figure if the washer’s broken spin cycle is the worst thing that happens in my week, I’m pretty lucky. Now I may not be singing that same grateful tune if I end up at a local laundromat…

Sunday evening I watched a documentary I had ordered from Netflix about women who are homeless, living in their cars and/or occasionally U-haul trucks when they could afford to rent one. It was filmed a few years ago but was timely nonetheless as viewing it really opened my eyes to the invisibility and plight of these women. There is no way of knowing how many of them and their children are living such lives as they do not “look” like the homeless we are conditioned, at least in the big cities, to look through or around. Out of the five women the documentary showcased, four were working whenever they could find jobs and most of them had come from at least middle to upper-middle class backgrounds.

So I think part of my experience with the broken washing machine this morning has been placed in the perspective of not having to live in my car, Harvey. Yet.

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