Date with Domesticity

February 25, 2004

Apparently, I have just done something terribly Swedish: I have reneged on a movie date with a friend on account of it conflicting with my laundry room reservation. That's not as specious an excuse as it sounds: These three-hour slots for washing, drying and ironing are a precious commodity. They require days of advance planning, and are enforced with — in my apartment building's case — an EZpass-like wireless contraption that won't unlock the access door if it's not your turn. Doing laundry requires as much thinking ahead as buying alcohol from Systembolaget, and as much patience as standing in line for a Stockholm nightclub; it's an investment in time one should not squander unnecessarily.

When I told my friend my excuse, she immediately said, "Oh, so it only took you a year and a half to become Swedish. That's amazing." Add a generous dollop of sarcasm to that statement. I do hate being predictable like that, but not as much as going without underwear, so laundry room it remains.

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