The Laundry Wars

I am not a fan of laundry.  In fact, when in Guatemala I pay the "girls" to do my laundry.  When my parents would come to visit us on the boat, Mom did my laundry.  I am teaching Cynthia to do the laundry.

RV parks like marinas have a season.  So all the sites are being filled and the demand on the laundry room is increasing with each and every motorhome that drives in and stays a week, a month or a season.
During the summer months when it is 120 in the shade most leave and only the full-timers are left.

Washers

Cynthia and I would take a book or my iPad and read or play games and music while waiting for the laundry to finish.  We had the place to ourselves.  We were load and had fun.  We weren't bothering anybody so it wasn't it wasn't a big deal.

One man does laundry

All that has changed.   They are back!  And so begins the Laundry Wars.  We walked into the laundry room and only one machine was open to wash and there were no dryers available.  They look friendly but you can't be sure.  Now I am the type to stay with my laundry.  I admit in Guatemala I would go back to the boat, but I set a timer.  Here I must be vigilant.

Dryers

The first load is in and I am trying to be casual as I scan the amount of time left on the washing machines.  The machine next to my first load is coming up in 3,2,1, MINE.  As two more would be laundresses come in I grab the machine.  I only need one more machine and the lady from British Columbia says mine will be ready in 3 minutes, if you want it.  "Thanks," I say.  Cynthia stands in front of it, marking our ownership.

More people keep coming and I am now watching the dryers.  It will be close.  Timing is everything.  What?  Someone is claiming that my wet towels are on her machine and she can't move to the dryers.  "I believe that they are on my machine," I tell her.  I am correct.  She apologizes.  "Not a problem."

Whose Turn Is It?

A dryer is open but the owner is not there.  (Ah, the age old debate.  Do you move a total strangers clothes?)  The lady from British Columbia offers to fold her friends clothes so I can have the dryer.  I clean out the lint and in go the clothes.

Two more dryers come open and Cynthia and I are ready.  We claim them.  We are in the home stretch.  More people come in.  One lady opens the door views the room, laughs and leaves.  I am unconcerned.  I am folding a load and their squabbles over who's turn it is, not my problem.  It is every person for themselves.

I hate to say it but I am going to have to be an early bird to the laundry room.