We’re going to visit Jack’s mom for a couple of days and we’re bringing a duffel bag full of laundry. Yes, two adults with a child and car payments are still bringing laundry to mom’s on the weekend. Oh, we almost had a washer/dryer, but then our landlord must have woken up one morning and said to herself, Why have I told my tenants they can buy a washer/dryer when the only place they can install it is above my bedroom?
I used to love doing laundry, it gave me time to sit on a hot dryer and read Russian novels. Don’t ask me why, maybe all that marching through the snow made by butt cold. But once Jackson came along I started dropping off the laundry. Ninety cents a pound, just close your eyes and hand over the cash and try not to think about how many washer/dryers you could have paid for by now instead of letting Concha and Teresa do the laundry for you.
But really, Concha and Teresa do my laundry far better than I ever did. Would you like your white t-shirt to stay white, or would you rather have it slowly turn an unpleasant shade of pink? Because if you want your laundry pink (or gray, or garbage-green), then let me do it while I’m rereading War and Peace. But if you want your clothes to look better than when you bought them, and if your baby needs a little extra kissing, too, just hand them all over to Concha and Teresa.
Concha is in Mexico* right now visiting her family for the first time in seven years. She took her two kids (a daughter, four, and a son named Brian who is two months older than Jackson) so they could meet their family. It’s a wonderful summer break for all of them, but the trouble is, Concha may not be able to make it back. She may have to pass her kids over to Teresa at the border (Concha’s husband is still up here to take care of them) and then figure out how to get back here without paying someone $3,000 to smuggle her into the country. If your kids are born here, they’re citizens, but if you weren’t, good fucking luck, my friend. She must have known she was taking an enormous risk when she left. I hope it was worth it.
*Time to complain about Mexico! I broke my toe there and then got my period and was afraid to go into the water because I thought hammerhead sharks would attack me. And it’s all Mexico’s fault.
And so we leave wearing the yellow jersey of victory! Ole!