Why do I have such bad laundry karma? Is there a God I can pray to that will take away my washing problems? Is it symbolic of my life? Is the world trying to tell me something?
If you have followed my laverie automatique stories from the past (aka: As The World Spins) you will remember that my experiences are often plagued with kids who smear dog doo around the floors, coin machines that eat twenty euro bills, French housewives who snap up all the dryers with their wet house-washed laundry, and random drunk cooks who hang out on their midday breaks.
But I moved from the bourgeois 17th arrondissement to the boisterous 5th arrondissement and I thought things would be different.
Things were different the first couple of times.
Okay, so I have to walk five blocks to my laundromat because the two in my hood are closed (Why? Wouldn’t you think an area filled with tourists and Sorbonne students would warrant an array of places to wash clothes?) But still, my new laverie automatique is clean, has a plethora of dryers, and never eats my change.
Today the bubble burst. I took my laundry over to my sparkling clean laundromat, popped my clothes in, and left to do some shopping. When I came back one machine had finished and the other was overflowing with suds everywhere. My machine had turned into Mount Everest with a large white snow peak that bubbled up from the soap dispenser on the top.
Why me?
Both my machines were the same type and on the same cycle and they were started within seconds of each other. I asked a nice man (and the only other person in the place) what I could do, because the doors of the machines lock and you can’t get your stuff out unless the caretaker comes to physically unlock them with a key. Furthermore you can’t even stop the cycle. There’s no emergency breaks.
He told me to switch the cycle button, which I did. Immediately all the suds and Mount Everst evacuated.
Much relief.
As my other load of laundry was drying I noticed that my wash machine was still stuck on one cycle. It was supposed to be a rinse cycle, but there was no water. So my chef’s jackets were just flopping around endlessly from top to bottom, white arms waving around for rescue.
I asked the man again what I could do and if he could call the help number for me. But then he told me, the problem is that the water had been cut.
Why had I not noticed the men right outside working down in the manhole? He then pointed out to a paper on the door that said the water would be off until 6PM at night.
“But how long has your machine been running?”
“Une heure. Mais je pense que elle travaille bien. Elle est presque finie” (One hour, But I think she works well, she’s almost finished)
“Normalement le cycle prend 45 minutes.” (But normally the cycle is 45 minutes.)
He looked to his watch and then back at his machine.
I asked him when the paper on the door had gone up and he replied that they had posted it twenty minutes ago. Great, so while I was out enjoying my ONLY day off this week, the Parisian water department snuck in and posted their little incognito sign and dropped into the bowels of France to check out the drainage problems.
I only hoped that l’eau de toliette had not been washing my clothes all day.
We called the help number on the wall and they informed us that they had no workers available to help today. So then my new friend came up with an ingenious plan. He told me that maybe if I went outside and smiled and talked with the head water dude, that they might have our water back on.
“Plaisantez-vous?” (you joke?) I asked.
“Non.” He replied and gave a helpless shrug.
So I did, I went outside and smiled and apologized for my bad French and asked what the situation was with our water. The head water dude told me that they were working on it. And, indeed they were. I peered down to see three men suspended with ropes and little headlights attached to their hard helmets.
I then lied and told him (in French):
“I have a problem, I’m a cook, and I have all my jackets in the washing machine and it won’t stop and I can’t unlock the door. I think without the water the cycle won’t stop and I cook in two hours and I have nothing to wear.”
He came in to the laverie automatique to examine the situation and look at my sad jackets waving endlessly for mercy. My new friend and the water boss had a quiet serious man conversation for five minutes and then the boss left to shout down into the manhole.
Twenty minutes later our water was back on and all the guys in the manhole came up to say “bonjour“. We graciously thanked them over and over again. They packed up and moved on to the next water problem.
So all that’s wrong is right again. And before you go thinking that I’m terrible for using female persausion in such a contrived way, think about working for 12-14 hours a day, six days a week, and then having to spend six hours at the laundromat on your one day off.
Not only that, but all the bistros and cafe’s on the street could re-open with water, so really I was helping out the whole area. (My halo and wings are glowing can you tell?)
In fact, aside from being perturbed about my laundry taking three hours, the chivalry of the French water department truly made my day. They were so sweet and helpful and I will always have a special place in my heart for the water depatment of Paris.
Oh, and just as my second load of laundry was finished drying and my new friend’s laundry too, the caretaker called back to say they would send some one over to stop the washing machines.
Too late, but at least they made the effort.
Hey, you’re developing a pretty good form for regaling us with your wacky tales.
But were all the municipal workers smoking as they lowered themselves into the sewers? (This is how I imagine Paris.)
Well, just for the sake of story-telling: yes, they were all smoking Gallois cigarettes and wearing beret’s underneath their hard helmets! Gros Bisous, Ms. Glaze
Laundry in Paris. You could blog on adventures at the laverie and never run out of material. Late one evening, while washing every piece of clothing that we possessed, the attendant came to close up. She shooed us and our sopping laundry out into the streets. The following morning, I left our nearby hotel carrying a backpack stuffed with still-wet articles. The desk clerk, literally, chased me down the street, convinced that I was skipping out without paying for the room. Much hilarity ensued.
You need a maid. Or a very good friend who will do your laundry while you’re at work. C’est possible?
You have me ROFLing away here like a maniac!
Wonderfully wacky tale of water woe.
I must go read the other Laverie story…
More please! ! !
Heavens!
This is hilarious, in retospect of course.
You tell a grand tale Ms. Glaze.
I never tire of reading of your Paris adventures.
Since work seems to require a zizi, and at the laundry, les seins seem to work wonders…perhaps you might consider becoming a hermaphrodite?
I can think of a few instances where I wish I had a pair of ‘nanas’…
I like your cooking videos!! I feel like I am in a bubble sometimes making cooking videos, writing a food blog for a job, and it’s great to see what everybody else is up to! (the money part of my job is teaching cooking in Italy)
fayedelicious.blip.tv
David – I’ll trade you throughout the week because my nanas are getting in the way at work and I think a zizi would make things much different. LOL!!!
Faye – Wow! Teaching cooking in Italy? Can I come visit?
Lucy – Many thanks! And I’m glad some one else finds my bizarre laundry woes as funny as I do.
Paris Breakfasts – Can’t wait for you to get here. Maybe we can do some wash together 😉
Bob – I do have a femme de Menage (cleaning lady) who is fantastic. Without her I’d be a down right mess. But unfortunately, I have no washing machine in my new apartment. It’s either refrigerate groceries or wash clothes. Quite the toss up, but the refrigerator won out.
Buck – Too funny! You captured it all in just a few sentences. I can picture the drama. 😉
Tsk, néné, not nana. The néné is on the nana — it simple!!
What a wonderful tale!
And I certainly don’t think it’s a misuse of female persuasion, actually I think it’s perfect. After all….All’s fair in love, war, The Friday Night Rush and naturally now, laundry 😉 Ellen
I bought a second hand washing machine today. So I thought it was intersting I happened on this blog. It cost $95, works great, and has a 4 star enviro rating. Awesome