If the machines take quarters, you’ll be short a few. If the machines take one of those magnetic cards, you’ll inevitably forget it in your apartment. At some point, usually after a break-up or a rough day at work, these small dilemmas will be so staggering that you will give up in a huff and go to the bar. And still, your laundry will remain.
I think it’s pretty clear, at this point, that the average New Yorker’s laundering opportunities are utter & complete garbage. But is having your own washer/dryer all that much better?
Of course it is. Are you kidding me, bruh? That’s the thesis of this entire essay. Just... shut up and listen, alright? In New York, an in-unit washer/dryer is more than the sum of its clothes-cleaning function. It’s the courage to eat a greasy calzone in your slightly-more-expensive-than-average T-shirt, and the courage to buy a slightly-more-expensive-than-average T-shirt in the first place. It’s the glory of a Saturday spent drinking in the sun with vague acquaintances from your recent past. It’s the same thrill of self-governance that in college compelled you to put frozen yogurt on your Belgian waffles just because you could, how do you like that MOM & DAD?! WOO! NO PARENTS!