The Laundrette is Not a Fun Place To Be on Friday

I'm told a watched pot, never, ever boils.
I know now that watched laundry never dries.
A half hour only gets out stains and soils
Predictably. No matter how one tries,
She can't predict how long it's going to take
To turn those duds from wet and sopping rags
To dry ones. It's a thing she cannot fake
Or hasten with a round of pleads and nags.
A pressing appointment or hot date?
That's not the dryer's fault; she might have come
To get a sooner start. It's worth the wait
To have clean clothes, though, even if it's dumb
To watch one's garments tumble round and round
Is actually somewhat soothing, I have found.