Laundry

After our exploits in the USVI we have headed back to the BVI, which is now beginning to feel somewhat like home.  We spent a night in Nanny Cay marina, to restock and refuel...and to do laundry.

I have been attempting to wash our own clothes with two buckets, liquid soap, a load of elbow grease and a tonne of enthusiasm.  Once every few days I furiously scrub our t-shirts and shorts with my bare hands, rubbing my knuckles against each other to achieve maximum soap penetration and stain removal. Unfortunately, this only makes my hands blistered and the clothes only barely cleaner. 

I have been drooling over the magic counter top camp washers that I see on the internet.  They resemble a barrel on a tripod with a handle that you turn to spin the barrel, and presumably your washing.  The thought of having actual clean laundry makes my toes tingle.  If Gary got me one of these contraptions for my birthday, I’m sure my resultant reaction would be the opposite of the time he bought me an iron for my birthday (still unused, in box at the back of our storage unit).  He is also unlikely to develop the same bruising that resulted from the iron incident either. However, alas such inventions are impossible to acquire here in the Caribbean. 

While wandering to the shop at Nanny Cay I was distracted by a sign that seemed to be glowing like an angel sent from God. It read “LAUNDROMAT”.

At 4pm on the dot, when it opens for private use, armed with a handful of quarters I entered the sweet smelling Laundromat.  With the help of the kind assistant I managed to put on my first load... the sheets.  Like a child on Christmas morning excitement ran through me.  I watched the washing machine progress through all its stages, the words Wash, Rinse, Spin heightened my excitement.  The beeping of the washer signaling its completion was better than any beep I have ever heard.  But the next stage is even better...the dryer.  Now, this wasn’t any ordinary dryer.  This was an industrial dryer, complete with furnace at the back.  Again, with further kind assistance, I started the dryer.  As the minutes unfolded, the sweet smell of warm clean laundry wafted through the air.  When the cycle ended I gathered the sheets in my arms, held them against my cheek and took a deep breath of contentment.  Clean washing.

The thrill was only slightly lessened by the fact that I had another 4 loads ahead of me.  After the 3 hours of washing I walked to the boat in a daze, my urge satiated.