I am a graduate student living in San Diego.

The weather here is generally nice, and the ocean is always nearby, but it can feel a bit boring.

Then, I heard the news that our apartment laundry room had been robbed.

I went to the apartment laundry room with my laundry basket as usual, but the door was closed.

At first, I thought, "What's going on? Did all the washing machines break down at once?" and didn't think much of it, but what I later heard from the management office was a masterpiece.

"The electrical wiring in the laundry room has been stolen."

The thief didn't just take the washing machines; they ripped out the valuable electrical wires and took them.

This isn't just simple theft; it's something that could be called a form of art.

From that day on, I became a loyal customer of a coin laundry in some neighborhood of San Diego.

When I first entered the coin laundry, what I felt was, "Ah, this is like the movie 'Catch Me If You Can.'"

Do you remember the scene in that famous movie where Tom Hanks' white shirt turns pink while doing laundry?

That one scene made me feel, "Ah, this is what American coin laundry culture was like back then," but... it felt strange that even after more than 50 years, so many people are still doing laundry in places like this, and I could feel the reality of low-income individuals.

In fact, I am also part of the low-income group... Seeing various people here who have stories of not having a washing machine at home gives me a strange feeling.

Some bring old blankets, and some ladies read books while doing laundry in several loads.

Some young men stare blankly with their earphones in. If there's one commonality, it's that the people who come here are generally "washing their hopes."

Doing laundry basically means that you are living a life that has value worth organizing.

But on the other hand, it's also clear that this place is definitely not a space for the middle class.

To put it bluntly, this is a place where people who come because "our apartment laundry room is temporarily broken, and I have no choice" mix with those for whom "this is my only laundry option."

And just a block away, homeless people wearing clothes that haven't been washed are napping on benches.

It makes me bitter to think that even a single washing machine can divide social classes.

Of course, I still belong to the class that can do laundry, and I have enough leisure to eat chicken salad while looking at my phone.

"How many coin laundries have I been to in my life?"

If you think about it, isn't life like a washing machine that you put coins in and repeat?

The problem is that life doesn't get bleached like laundry.

Next week, the apartment laundry room might really be repaired.

But even when that time comes, I think I will still come back to this coin laundry sometimes.

I discovered that the large drum washing machine for blankets here does an amazing job with blanket laundry.

And this place smells more of life than soap. Sometimes, that seems to comfort me.