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I can hear the spinning wheels of the cart chatter as they move across the unevenly tiled floor. The cart’s pilot is a well-dressed woman in her 40s， loudly talking into her mobile phone while she tries to 1）manoeuvre the cart with one hand.
It’s overflowing with white fabric， decorated with 2）crumbs and lipstick—a clue that her cart is full of soiled restaurant-quality tablecloths and napkins. Her conversation with the attendants is loud enough for all to hear， and it’s clear she’s at first glance 3）agitated， rushed and 4）frantic. This is not a place she’s familiar with， nor is it the place she wants to be.
I’m in my local laundromat， and this display has ripped my attention from my morning newspaper. The space is well-lit， clean and mostly quiet， save for the rows of rumbling washers and the rhythmic sounds of clothes flopping around in the glass-fronted dryers. Fellow launderers sit reading magazines or books； some work on laptops. Every time the door opens， the notices on the nearby 5）bulletin board briefly rustle in the breeze.
I’m tempted to feel superior here because I’m comfortable and familiar in this place， while the loud woman is obviously not. I’m tempted to smirk at her questions about the machines’ settings， since I can roll my cart to any machine and operate it with ease， like my mom works her knitting needles.
Because I’m still tempted， it’s clear I have not yet fully achieved Laundromat Zen.
The laundromat hasn’t always been a positive element in my life. When my wife and I moved to the city a couple of years ago， we were excited to find a basement suite in our price range that had high ceilings， counter space， windows and storage—but no laundry machines hid in any of the many closets. This meant that， for the first time， we would have to leave the house to wash our clothes.
Our landlords have a set of machines that we are not welcome to share， the sounds of the thumping spin cycle taunting us through the living room wall. Outside， sweet-smelling dryer exhaust escapes the house a few feet from our entrance. 6）Lugging our full laundry bins and bags to the car is especially 7）onerous under these conditions， and it was easy to grumble while spending the majority of my Saturday morning at the laundromat. There were many things I’d rather be doing； I could be sleeping， going for a run， or even wrestling hair out of the bathroom drain.
But， after spending so much time here， I slowly began to learn from the laundromat. It has shown itself to be a great 8）equalizer in the midst of a frantic， material city. Outside the doors， indicators of wealth and status become obvious. Expensive 9）strollers， designer umbrellas and bags full of organic groceries point to bank accounts more flush than my own. Inside the laundromat， however， the only currency that matters is measured in quarters and 10）loonies. We all hope for side-by-side machines， but don’t always get them. We occasionally forget the 11）detergent. And we must all sit， wait， and occupy ourselves while the laundry continues to cycle. There are no shortcuts.
This sitting and waiting has become an integral part of Laundromat Zen. Listening to my clothes spinning in the washer， or watching them being rhythmically rolled around in the dryer， I’m able to relax， knowing that for the next couple of hours， there’s nothing to strive for， nothing to accomplish， and no standards to live up to. There’s only my laundry.
The laundromat also has a unique way of breaking down conventional privacy barriers. Experienced users aren’t timid about displaying their choice of bedroom sheets， bathroom towels or exercise clothes. I was initially shy about taking my wife’s bras and my boxers out of the dryer and folding them.
I soon realized that being embarrassed or trying to hide these was time-consuming and energy-sapping； it would be easier to simply own the idea of advertising our underwear choices to the public. Yes， world， I wear Christmas-themed underwear out of season. The state may have no place in the bedrooms of the nation， but it could certainly get a few sneak peeks at the corner 12）launderette.
My weekly ritual at the laundromat has shown me that everyone is equal inside its doors， and I have learned to take this teaching outside them as well. I must avoid thinking I’m superior to anyone， no matter how loudly they’re talking on their cellphone while they manoeuvre their cart full of restaurant linens. Similarly， I must remember that there’s nobody better than me， no matter what stroller they’re pushing or the origin of the groceries in their bag. I remind myself that wealth and achievement are not 13）harbingers of happiness and success， and should not signify self-worth. Equally important is remembering to look deeply into the machines to check for any 14）rogue socks.
When I first began frequenting the laundromat， the experience cast a pall on my day because I thought I could be making better use of my time. Now， it serves to remind me of what’s important in life， and has given me insight into the human condition that I didn’t expect.
Now， when I begin to strive， compare， and doubt myself， I know it’s time to grab my laundry bins and head for the door.
我能听到飞转的手推车轮子在凹凸不平的砖铺地板上滚过时咔嗒咔嗒的响声。推车的是一位穿着讲究的四十多岁的妇女，她拿着手机大声地讲着电话，并尽力用另外一只手控制推车。
推车上载满白色的布料，布料上点缀着糕点屑和口红印——这说明她的推车里所载的皆是些弄脏了的餐厅用的桌布和餐巾。她和餐厅服务员的对话音量大得全世界都能听到，而且一眼就可以看出她是急躁、匆忙、狂乱三位一体。这儿是既非她熟悉，亦非她想来的地方。
我正在家附近的自助洗衣店里，此情此景将我的注意力从晨报阅读中给揪了出来。这地方光线充足、干净，且通常比较安静——除了一排排隆隆作响的洗衣机，以及带玻璃门挡的干衣机里衣服翻动发出的节奏性声响外。来洗衣服的“同道中人”，有的坐着看杂志或书，有的在笔记本上忙活着。每次有人开门，旁边布告栏上的告示就会在一阵微风中窸窣飘扬一下。
因为对这个地方感觉舒适和熟悉，我不禁有一种高人一等的感觉，而那位大嗓门的妇女则显然不如我。对于她那些关于机器设定的问题，我不禁付之一笑，因为我能够把推车推到任何一台机器前并轻松自如地进行操作，就像我妈妈做她的针线活儿那样流利。
显然我还没能完全参透自助洗衣店的“禅道”，因为我还会情不自禁，被干扰分心。
自助洗衣店在我的生活中并非一直起着如此积极的意义。当我和妻子几年前搬到这座城市时，我们当时为能在我们的租金要求范围内租到一套具有高天花板、柜台空间、窗户和储物室的地下室套间感到无比兴奋——但是在那么多的壁柜里却找不到洗衣设备。这就意味着，我们不得不到家外面去洗衣服，对我们来说这是头一遭。
我们的房东有一套洗衣设备，但不太愿意与我们共享，那轰隆隆的旋转声响隔着客厅的墙壁嘲弄着我们。外面，干衣机排出的香气从家的大门口飘散到好几英尺远。在这样的情况下，把大包小包的待洗衣物拖上车着实是一件特别累人的活儿，而且把周六上午的大部分时间花在自助洗衣店里极易让人变得牢骚满腹。我宁愿去做的还有大把的事，我可以睡懒觉，去跑跑步，甚至去跟那些缠在浴室排水管里的头发搏斗。
但是，在这里花了很多的时间后，我渐渐开始懂得向自助洗衣店学习。在这么一座疯狂、物质化的城市中，自主洗衣店是一股强大的均衡力量。门外，各种有关财富和地位的标识皆如此清晰明确。昂贵的手推童车，设计时尚的雨伞，以及装满有机食品的袋子显示着银主们的丰厚家产，我的，那是相形见拙了。
然而，在自助洗衣店里，唯一起作用的货币是以25美分和1元硬币来计算的。我们都希望能找到那些并排的机器，但并不总能如意。我们都会偶尔忘记清洗剂。而且当衣服转来转去时，我们都不得不坐下来，等待，并找些事情打发时间。没有任何捷径可取。
这种安坐和等候已然成为了自助洗衣店禅学修炼中不可分割的一部分。听着我的衣服在洗衣机里旋转，或是看着它们在干衣机里有节奏地翻滚，我得以放松下来，因为心里清楚在接下来的几个小时里我不需要去奋斗什么，不需要去实现什么，也不需要去达到什么标准。只待衣服洗完。
自助洗衣店还有它打破传统隐私壁垒的独特方式。经验老到的顾客不会为展示他们的床单、浴巾或运动服而感到害羞。我起初就为从干衣机中取出妻子的胸衣和自己的平角裤，以及把这些东西叠好而感到很不好意思。
很快我便意识到为此感到尴尬或尝试把它们藏起来都是费时又徒劳的；最简易的解决方法就是改变一下自己的观念：把我们的内衣选择公诸于众。没错，全世界听着，我不合时节地穿着圣诞主题的内衣。这种广告词是无法在全国的卧室里引起任何关注的，但是在街角的自助洗衣店里却一定能引来几眼偷窥。
我每周的自助洗衣店日程向我展示了一点：那就是在里面所有人都是平等的，而我还把这点领悟延伸至门外的世界。我必须要避免那种自以为高人一等的想法，即使对方一边推着满车的餐厅桌布一边大声地讲电话。同理，我必须记住没有任何人高我一等，不管他们手推着何种童车抑或他们的袋子里装着哪个产地的食品。我提醒自己，财富和成就并不是幸福与成功的标志，更不代表个人价值。同样重要的是要记住看清楚机器里有没有一些散失的袜子。
当我刚开始频繁出入自助洗衣店时，这种经验给我的日子蒙上了一层阴影，因为我想我可以更好地利用自己的时间。如今，它却提醒了我生活中什么才是重要的，而且还给了我从未期望过的深入人类境况的洞见。
如今，当我开始奋斗、比较和怀疑自己时，我就知道是时候拎起我的待洗衣物前往那扇门了。
It’s overflowing with white fabric， decorated with 2）crumbs and lipstick—a clue that her cart is full of soiled restaurant-quality tablecloths and napkins. Her conversation with the attendants is loud enough for all to hear， and it’s clear she’s at first glance 3）agitated， rushed and 4）frantic. This is not a place she’s familiar with， nor is it the place she wants to be.
I’m in my local laundromat， and this display has ripped my attention from my morning newspaper. The space is well-lit， clean and mostly quiet， save for the rows of rumbling washers and the rhythmic sounds of clothes flopping around in the glass-fronted dryers. Fellow launderers sit reading magazines or books； some work on laptops. Every time the door opens， the notices on the nearby 5）bulletin board briefly rustle in the breeze.
I’m tempted to feel superior here because I’m comfortable and familiar in this place， while the loud woman is obviously not. I’m tempted to smirk at her questions about the machines’ settings， since I can roll my cart to any machine and operate it with ease， like my mom works her knitting needles.
Because I’m still tempted， it’s clear I have not yet fully achieved Laundromat Zen.
The laundromat hasn’t always been a positive element in my life. When my wife and I moved to the city a couple of years ago， we were excited to find a basement suite in our price range that had high ceilings， counter space， windows and storage—but no laundry machines hid in any of the many closets. This meant that， for the first time， we would have to leave the house to wash our clothes.
Our landlords have a set of machines that we are not welcome to share， the sounds of the thumping spin cycle taunting us through the living room wall. Outside， sweet-smelling dryer exhaust escapes the house a few feet from our entrance. 6）Lugging our full laundry bins and bags to the car is especially 7）onerous under these conditions， and it was easy to grumble while spending the majority of my Saturday morning at the laundromat. There were many things I’d rather be doing； I could be sleeping， going for a run， or even wrestling hair out of the bathroom drain.
But， after spending so much time here， I slowly began to learn from the laundromat. It has shown itself to be a great 8）equalizer in the midst of a frantic， material city. Outside the doors， indicators of wealth and status become obvious. Expensive 9）strollers， designer umbrellas and bags full of organic groceries point to bank accounts more flush than my own. Inside the laundromat， however， the only currency that matters is measured in quarters and 10）loonies. We all hope for side-by-side machines， but don’t always get them. We occasionally forget the 11）detergent. And we must all sit， wait， and occupy ourselves while the laundry continues to cycle. There are no shortcuts.
This sitting and waiting has become an integral part of Laundromat Zen. Listening to my clothes spinning in the washer， or watching them being rhythmically rolled around in the dryer， I’m able to relax， knowing that for the next couple of hours， there’s nothing to strive for， nothing to accomplish， and no standards to live up to. There’s only my laundry.
The laundromat also has a unique way of breaking down conventional privacy barriers. Experienced users aren’t timid about displaying their choice of bedroom sheets， bathroom towels or exercise clothes. I was initially shy about taking my wife’s bras and my boxers out of the dryer and folding them.
I soon realized that being embarrassed or trying to hide these was time-consuming and energy-sapping； it would be easier to simply own the idea of advertising our underwear choices to the public. Yes， world， I wear Christmas-themed underwear out of season. The state may have no place in the bedrooms of the nation， but it could certainly get a few sneak peeks at the corner 12）launderette.
My weekly ritual at the laundromat has shown me that everyone is equal inside its doors， and I have learned to take this teaching outside them as well. I must avoid thinking I’m superior to anyone， no matter how loudly they’re talking on their cellphone while they manoeuvre their cart full of restaurant linens. Similarly， I must remember that there’s nobody better than me， no matter what stroller they’re pushing or the origin of the groceries in their bag. I remind myself that wealth and achievement are not 13）harbingers of happiness and success， and should not signify self-worth. Equally important is remembering to look deeply into the machines to check for any 14）rogue socks.
When I first began frequenting the laundromat， the experience cast a pall on my day because I thought I could be making better use of my time. Now， it serves to remind me of what’s important in life， and has given me insight into the human condition that I didn’t expect.
Now， when I begin to strive， compare， and doubt myself， I know it’s time to grab my laundry bins and head for the door.
我能听到飞转的手推车轮子在凹凸不平的砖铺地板上滚过时咔嗒咔嗒的响声。推车的是一位穿着讲究的四十多岁的妇女，她拿着手机大声地讲着电话，并尽力用另外一只手控制推车。
推车上载满白色的布料，布料上点缀着糕点屑和口红印——这说明她的推车里所载的皆是些弄脏了的餐厅用的桌布和餐巾。她和餐厅服务员的对话音量大得全世界都能听到，而且一眼就可以看出她是急躁、匆忙、狂乱三位一体。这儿是既非她熟悉，亦非她想来的地方。
我正在家附近的自助洗衣店里，此情此景将我的注意力从晨报阅读中给揪了出来。这地方光线充足、干净，且通常比较安静——除了一排排隆隆作响的洗衣机，以及带玻璃门挡的干衣机里衣服翻动发出的节奏性声响外。来洗衣服的“同道中人”，有的坐着看杂志或书，有的在笔记本上忙活着。每次有人开门，旁边布告栏上的告示就会在一阵微风中窸窣飘扬一下。
因为对这个地方感觉舒适和熟悉，我不禁有一种高人一等的感觉，而那位大嗓门的妇女则显然不如我。对于她那些关于机器设定的问题，我不禁付之一笑，因为我能够把推车推到任何一台机器前并轻松自如地进行操作，就像我妈妈做她的针线活儿那样流利。
显然我还没能完全参透自助洗衣店的“禅道”，因为我还会情不自禁，被干扰分心。
自助洗衣店在我的生活中并非一直起着如此积极的意义。当我和妻子几年前搬到这座城市时，我们当时为能在我们的租金要求范围内租到一套具有高天花板、柜台空间、窗户和储物室的地下室套间感到无比兴奋——但是在那么多的壁柜里却找不到洗衣设备。这就意味着，我们不得不到家外面去洗衣服，对我们来说这是头一遭。
我们的房东有一套洗衣设备，但不太愿意与我们共享，那轰隆隆的旋转声响隔着客厅的墙壁嘲弄着我们。外面，干衣机排出的香气从家的大门口飘散到好几英尺远。在这样的情况下，把大包小包的待洗衣物拖上车着实是一件特别累人的活儿，而且把周六上午的大部分时间花在自助洗衣店里极易让人变得牢骚满腹。我宁愿去做的还有大把的事，我可以睡懒觉，去跑跑步，甚至去跟那些缠在浴室排水管里的头发搏斗。
但是，在这里花了很多的时间后，我渐渐开始懂得向自助洗衣店学习。在这么一座疯狂、物质化的城市中，自主洗衣店是一股强大的均衡力量。门外，各种有关财富和地位的标识皆如此清晰明确。昂贵的手推童车，设计时尚的雨伞，以及装满有机食品的袋子显示着银主们的丰厚家产，我的，那是相形见拙了。
然而，在自助洗衣店里，唯一起作用的货币是以25美分和1元硬币来计算的。我们都希望能找到那些并排的机器，但并不总能如意。我们都会偶尔忘记清洗剂。而且当衣服转来转去时，我们都不得不坐下来，等待，并找些事情打发时间。没有任何捷径可取。
这种安坐和等候已然成为了自助洗衣店禅学修炼中不可分割的一部分。听着我的衣服在洗衣机里旋转，或是看着它们在干衣机里有节奏地翻滚，我得以放松下来，因为心里清楚在接下来的几个小时里我不需要去奋斗什么，不需要去实现什么，也不需要去达到什么标准。只待衣服洗完。
自助洗衣店还有它打破传统隐私壁垒的独特方式。经验老到的顾客不会为展示他们的床单、浴巾或运动服而感到害羞。我起初就为从干衣机中取出妻子的胸衣和自己的平角裤，以及把这些东西叠好而感到很不好意思。
很快我便意识到为此感到尴尬或尝试把它们藏起来都是费时又徒劳的；最简易的解决方法就是改变一下自己的观念：把我们的内衣选择公诸于众。没错，全世界听着，我不合时节地穿着圣诞主题的内衣。这种广告词是无法在全国的卧室里引起任何关注的，但是在街角的自助洗衣店里却一定能引来几眼偷窥。
我每周的自助洗衣店日程向我展示了一点：那就是在里面所有人都是平等的，而我还把这点领悟延伸至门外的世界。我必须要避免那种自以为高人一等的想法，即使对方一边推着满车的餐厅桌布一边大声地讲电话。同理，我必须记住没有任何人高我一等，不管他们手推着何种童车抑或他们的袋子里装着哪个产地的食品。我提醒自己，财富和成就并不是幸福与成功的标志，更不代表个人价值。同样重要的是要记住看清楚机器里有没有一些散失的袜子。
当我刚开始频繁出入自助洗衣店时，这种经验给我的日子蒙上了一层阴影，因为我想我可以更好地利用自己的时间。如今，它却提醒了我生活中什么才是重要的，而且还给了我从未期望过的深入人类境况的洞见。
如今，当我开始奋斗、比较和怀疑自己时，我就知道是时候拎起我的待洗衣物前往那扇门了。