It seems like such a good idea. Lots of waiting. Lots of opportunity. No kids running around. It is socially acceptable to ignore the people around you. The laundromat seems like a fine place to write.

For some reason, I can’t.

My family has had to adjust to once again not having a washer and dryer at home. And with lots of kids clothes, stained work clothes, and everything that goes into living with an active family, having to go out of the home to do laundry is a real adjustment.

The kind of adjustment that can put extra stress on my spouse: who thinks she is “supposed” to do the laundry.

Of course, I can do it,

I suggest.

I have to write a sermon every week. Or I can do it on a day off. Either way, I need to write.

I keep talking, as if she needs more than

I’ll do it.

and

No, it won’t interfere with what I need to do.

At the Laundromat

The closest place is called “Courtesy Cleaning Center,” which is a pretty normal laundromat with the different sized washers and a wall full of dryers. I schlep overstuffed baskets to a spot, then a different spot. A better spot. A spot with a table next to an outlet. And I begin loading.

I start with the big washers first. The four-loaders that fit a whole basket of darks and work my way to the smaller units: for the towels, the whites, the “don’t dry”s. Finally everything is in. I have a good thirty minutes.

I fire up the laptop. And then…

hm.

Log in to my site? Sure. Any drafts to work on? Ugh. Not for 30 minutes.

Simplenote has my blog file in it. Anything? Nothing for now.

There’s only one good solution: Facebook.

[20 minutes pass]

How about feeds? Huffington? Patheos? Anything? What is breaking? What can I write about? Something has to be going on in the world!

[load the dryers, fold the “don’t dry”s.]

Maybe I can tweet something good?

[load the car, leave.]

Home

How was the laundromat?

Good.

Next Time

I try it again. Still nothing.

This Time

I’d like to say that this time is different. Me sitting here in the laundromat, writing like a fiend. But I can’t. I’m not. Or I wasn’t. Everything was the same. The same writer’s block, the same obsessions. Having things I could write, but nothing I need to write.

Of course, the problem isn’t really the laundromat objectively. I am approaching the space like I approach other public places, like my favorite Starbucks. It isn’t the approach. It really is the laundromat. It is that I have to get up and check the washers and the dryers. It is the things that distract, but aren’t distractions. It is part of the environment.

It is just like writing at home with the kids around, because my mind can’t get in the zone. That’s the problem.

So the solution should be the same. Write about the problem. Which is why I’m writing about the laundromat. Or, more precisely, writing about writing at the laundromat. It’s the writer’s version of steering into the skid.

There are other solutions, of course. Pros will give you all sorts of tips about how to take advantage of those 30 minutes when they come. And most are worth it. The one I struggle with is the one in which I set up a writing calendar and know what I’m going to write ahead of time. That is one resolution that never sticks.

Here’s my takeaway for today

Make yourself at home.

Of course, if you’re in public, you still have to wear pants. But otherwise, make yourself at home. Normally, that isn’t a help, because I struggle with writing at home. In this case, however, it’s the same thing. It really is.

Same in the distracted, in the commotion, in the stuff going on around me.

And same in that I now have a table, a spot I like. And habits that I’m starting. It is getting comfortable here. And I have a suspicion that I’ll be able to write here next time.

The End

You know how I know it is time to stop? Because the dryers have stopped. Maybe 10 minutes ago. All I have left is to upload the picture…