The Laundromat

All photos in this post were taken by our friend Sami Jo Photography!

SO I’m going to give it to you straight. I don’t like laundry. Like, I’d rather have an IV put in my arm every day of the week instead. I’m guilty of putting it back through the cycle 4 times before I build up the gusto to just hurry + freakin fold it. But hey, I would still choose to fold the clean clothes over putting it all away. On the weeks I stay caught up on it all, it ain’t no thang, but when I don’t — HIDE! HURRY! HIIIIDE ME!

 | Top | Jeans | Kicks | Hat | Necklace | Watch | Lip Color

This Laundromat is in Logan. Around the corner from where Jon lived while he was going to USU. Which, if you remember, I moved in to the house right across the parking lot from him while he was home for Christmas Break. #stalkerstatus Anyways, I’m still trying to decide if it’s a blessing or a curse that my mom did my laundry for me my whole life. Bless her heart!!!! When I moved out on my own, I learned the real meaning of “You don’t need to put it in the hamper if it isn’t dirty.” I mean I didn’t go as far as to turning my unders inside out, but I did break my basket trying to push the clothes down to fit more on top. Which eventually overflowed to a complete mountain before I actually did it. We didn’t have a washer or dryer in our apartment, but my parents lived in the next town over + they did. The real problem is I was trying really hard to be big + independent when I moved out, so rather than going home for free help, I decided the laundromat was the better more responsible *read:stubborn* option. I loaded the back seats. Plural, yes, SEATS + went on my way. Am I painting a clear picture? I drove around the corner to the laundromat, walked in to check how much it cost + came back to the car to grab my white’s. But I couldn’t get in the car. My keys were locked in. Called my brother Cody – he didn’t answer. Called my roommates – they were in class. Grandma can’t drive, Kylee lived in St George, I had to call Jon. He answered. Of course he answered + he came to the rescue.

With his wire hanger half way wedged in the passenger window, he glanced into the back seat with his huge ol’ eyes “How did you get nominated to do all the roomies dirty duds?” ___________ awkward outburst of chuckle from my mouth (if you know me well, you know I laugh silently. When sound comes out, it’s most likely fake.) I will never forget the way he said it. He was dead serious. I didn’t correct him. In fact, I never told him it was all mine + that I hadn’t done a load of laundry since I moved out last winter.

Lesson learned. That was my first + last experience with a laundromat. I took my all of my “dirty duds” back to my parent’s house for every washing after that. Hats off to anyone who travels away from home for laundry services. You are seriously the real deal!

Two kiddos, our own washer + our own dryer with a somewhat regular laundry schedule, I’d say we’ve come a long ways since my first trip to this laundromat. Felt good to redeem myself. We didn’t take any laundry with us. But it still felt good. Real, real good.