Wash, Rinse, Repeat

The alarm sounds, calling me to begin my day. Eyes still closed, I blindly swing my arm in its general direction, eager to stop its incessant beeping. I slowly sit up, stretching my achy muscles taut like a rope. I open my eyes and tiptoe to the bathroom across the hall. I am so tired, maybe a shower will help wake me up. The hot water feels so good on my tired body. I wash my hair and enjoy the light scent from my shampoo. Wash, rinse, repeat. 

I dry off and catch a glimpse of myself in the mirror. Clean hair, a fresh start. Too bad my face doesn’t match. I see dark, hollow eyes. A purple valley firmly settles under each eye. Just no spark left in my baby blues. I trace the fine lines that have taken up residence across my forehead. The crows feet that seem to scream “middle age” are so prominent next to my downturned eyes. Too bad there’s not a reset button for the face like a simple hair wash day. If only it could be that simple. Wash, rinse, repeat. 

No time for breakfast this morning, but it’s not like there is food in the fridge anyway. Pay day is in three days, so it’s going to be slim pickings until then. I pick up more shifts at work, but it never seems to make a difference. I work myself to exhaustion. My feet ache. My knees catch with every step. My back has a permanent forward bend to it. My head seems to stay in a permanent tense state. Work, work, work, still barely living paycheck to paycheck. Wash, rinse, repeat. 

I mean really, can you call this living? Working 12 hour days every day, never seeing my son. Definitely not sleeping as much as I should. Or eating like I should, for that matter. But this is what I’ve got to do. There’s no real life to be lived when you’re poor. You work until you die, the end. No days off. No vacations to plan and look forward to. No end in sight. Wash, rinse, repeat. 

I quietly open the front door, I don’t want to wake my boy this early. I make my way down the street toward the bus station. It’s cold this morning, so I pull my jacket tight around my waist. Within a few weeks, it will be warm again. The seasons, much like my day to day, they’re on a never-ending loop. Cold, warm, hot, cool. Cold, warm, hot, cool. Wash, rinse, repeat. 

As I approach the bus station, I see a group huddled together. I know them. I see them every morning. My life is like Groundhog Day, remember? The problem is, if I see them, I know they see me too. Instead of a Groundhog Day, I’d prefer an Ostrich Day where I could stick my head in the sand and pretend they don’t exist. Here they come, the catcalls. I swear, some people just never grow up. Young men, old men - misogyny spans generations...some things never change. Wash, rinse, repeat. 

I get on the bus early enough to find a window seat alone. I sit down, and watch out the window. Familiar faces, the same ones I see every day. Heading to work. Coming back home. Day in, day out. Always the same people, the same routines. I wonder of they feel the same way as me? Wash, rinse, repeat. 

I watch the scenery change as the bus makes it’s way through town. Different buildings, full of different people…but all doing the same thing. What do they call it? A Rat Race? Yeah, I think that’s it. Work your bones dry, all for someone who is younger and better to step in and take your hard-earned promotion. A constant influx of new and better. Too bad we can’t just work to renew and recharge the workers were already have. Wash, rinse, repeat. 

Work. I’ve made it. Would it surprise you to know I do laundry for a living? Whatever needs done, I’m doing it. Retrieving, washing, drying, hanging, pressing, steaming, delivering. Anything and everything, I’ve got it covered. It’s not glamorous work, but it pays the bills. Well, almost. It might be backbreaking work, but at least my mind is free to wander. Sometimes I listen to my favorite songs. Other times I just daydream about being on a beach somewhere. I’ve even written a few books, all in my head, of course. It’s amazing what you can do with your imagination. My body is on autopilot, my mind is working overtime. Wash, rinse, repeat. 

Today was a rough one. Cleaning up other peoples’ messes sometimes just leaves you feeling dirty and used. Maybe a shower will help. There is just something about a shower, they say. It has healing in the waters. I like to think that the slow trickle of water down your skin is washing away more than just the dirt. Clearing away all of the junk from the day. The worries, stress, the fears. It’s eliminating the “what ifs” and the “maybes.” All of that, just swept away, swirling down the drain with the soapy water. Now it’s time for the best part: the hair. Our hair will hold onto all the smells from our day: from laundry detergent to that smoke from the secret cigarette you smoke on your way home. I wonder what other sins it might hold? No worries, I’m washing it all down the drain. Wash, rinse, repeat. 

Wait, what is that noise? The alarm sounds, calling me to begin my day. Eyes still closed, I blindly swing my arm in its general direction, eager to stop its incessant beeping. I slowly sit up, stretching my achy muscles taut like a rope. It’s almost as if I’ve been here before. Is this real? Am I dreaming? Perhaps I am stuck in some never-ending loop, doomed to live the same day, every day. Regardless if this is some sick dream, I know what I have to do. Wash, rinse, repeat.