When in Tokyo...

I remember when I first walked through our Tokyo apartment, I was very pleased, relieved and impressed. I was impressed with the friendly neighbors. I was impressed with the location. I was impressed with the sliding doors in the rooms. And, I was very impressed with the large soaking tub and technologically advanced toilet.

“You can heat the seat,” my husband said.
Heat the seat? Amazing!

However, it was when I saw the laundry room that I became less impressed and more intrigued.

“That is certainly a strange looking microwave,” I said. “And, why is it in the laundry room?”
“That is the dryer,” my husband quietly said.
The dryer? That is the dryer?
“That dryer looks like it can only handle one person’s load,” I said. “We are a family of five. We need four more.”

I admit it, back in my home country, I was spoiled. I was the proud owner of a quick, efficient, super-sized dryer. Once in awhile, it would swallow socks, but that was the price to pay for convenience and warm, fluffy clothes. Every Wednesday and Sunday night, I would throw, shove, push, ram, and jam clothes into the bowel of the machine. “What are you trying to do?” my husband asked me one night when he saw me knee-deep in the dryer. “Are you stomping grapes to make wine?”
“Nope,” I said as I crushed wet clothes under my toes. “Just making room for some bath towels. I know I can fit more in here.”

“You can keep up, can’t you little guy?” I encouraged my new petite dryer. “You are like the little engine that could. I think I can. I think I can. I think I can.”

It tried, but it really couldn't.

So, as I have learned, when in Tokyo do as the Tokyoites do. Instead of battling or becoming frustrated by this little dryer, I joined my neighbors and set up a laundry line and drying rack on my small patio. All was well except my timing. Unfortunately, I hung up my first line of clothes the night before a typhoon. The next morning, after the storm passed, I had to knock on door of my first floor neighbor.

“Sorry to bother you,” I said. “But I believe the storm blew my pajamas onto your patio picnic table. And, those are my socks on your barbecue grill...and....those are my....”

I admit it. Even with the laundry line and drying rack, I still can’t keep up with the dirty laundry of my family (I think I can. I think I can. I think I can.) With three active sons (not to mention messy noodle eating), I constantly have clothing and sports gear drying outside and inside the apartment: on the line, on the kitchen stools, over the desk chair, on the ping pong table, on the sofa.

“What are you doing?” I asked my son the other afternoon.
“Dad said I could watch TV for an hour.”
“You know my TV rules,” I scolded. “If you are watching TV, it must be for two hours and you must spread out your arms. I’ve got sweatshirts to dry,” I said as I draped the hoodies over his shoulder. “Remember to rotate your arms every ten minutes or so. Now, where’s the dog? I need him to help me air dry this sweater.”

It is around this time of year that I visit my home country. I look forward to seeing friends and family. I look forward to sharing our Tokyo photos and adventures. I look forward to experiencing my home culture again. But, what I really look forward to is reuniting with my dryer.