Let's Talk Laundry

Okay, now I've been doing my own laundry since my early teens, mostly because my mom got too frustrated by my sorting system (hint: I don't have 1). That's cool. Throw a load in the washer, pray it doesn't come out pink, switch it to the dryer, pray it doesn't come out covered in kleenex fluff, dump into the laundry basket & promptly forget to fold it. Easy enough. But all through college I diligently avoided wasting my precious pocket money on washing in the dorms, so I washed at home. Or in my friends' apartment. Or anywhere where it was free really.

Well no more. Due to a series of events beyond my control, I returned to my apartment last week with virtually no clean clothes & no time to wash. It got ugly quick. Recycling jeans, okay. Pajamas, eh, what's a few extra days? T-shirts, well, I guess I'll be a bit more formal for a few days. But socks—that's where I draw the line. 

Come Wednesday, & I'm down to my last pair. I'm lacking quarters, & time, & energy. So what do I do? I wash them in the sink.

Have you ever washed socks in the sink? Let's just say a little soap goes a long way. Buy that's besides the point. It's not the washing that you have to worry about—it's the drying.

Naive fool that I am, I thought they'd dry by the time I needed them the next day. Wrong. I spent Thursday afternoon walking in soggy socks until they dried on my feet. So when I got home Thursday night, I needed a new plan of attack. I washed another pair of socks, wrung them out in the sink, & went to bed. As expected, they were still pretty soaked in the morning. So I got creative.

My first thought was to blow-dry them, but alas I couldn't remember where I'd put my hair dryer (turns out it was under the sink). Beating them dry didn't seem to work, so I got desperate. I microwaved them.

That's right—I microwaved my socks. Don't judge.

You will probably not be surprised to hear this did not work. However my socks did steam a little, & were soggy yet warm. & possibly radioactive. We're going to call this an improvement. 

After work on Friday, I finally had time to do laundry. Except surprise! I never got a key for the laundry room. & my roommate's key didn't work. So Saturday I went sockless to the leasing office & got keys.

Think that's the end of the story? It probably be, except this is me, & even the most trivial of problems with me are never quite so straight-forward.

Sunday: the day of rest, of relaxation, God's day. The day I was finally able to do my laundry. Hint: it did not end well.

For starters, there was only 1 washing machine in working order. Timing it right so I got to use it was tricky. But not so bad. Armed with $4 in quarters (thanks Dad), I had enough for 2 washer loads & 2 dryer loads. Perfect right? So there I go, load up the 1st washer with the essentials: socks, underwear, bras, pjs, a few pairs of jeans, a couple t-shirts. I know what you're thinking, & yes, it was a pretty full load. But manageable. Got it going without trouble, fast-forward an hour & fifteen, & I return with my 2nd load consisting mainly of towels (from the flooded kitchen incident—whole other debacle). Load the dryer, load the washer, & I'm feeling pretty good about myself. It's not until I come back another hour fifteen later that things get complicated.

Honestly, I think I forgot to turn the dryer on. That, or it was so full it didn't dry at all. The jeans, the t-shirts, the undergarments—all soaked. Really, really soaked. & I've only got enough quarters left for 1 more dryer.

I prioritized. Dryed a couple pairs of socks, 2 bras, 2 underwears & my pjs. Everything else went in the basket & up to my room. I won't bore you with the details of what I did next. Instead I'll jist show you:




My room, ladies & gents. Decked out in detergent-smelling clothes & towels. I call it laundry chic. I'm pretty sure I accidentally drugged myself with the laundry smell, because I totally took a 3 hour nap once it was all said & hung.

& sadly, this is still not the end of the story. My debacle more or less over, do you know what I discovered when I walked past my roommate's room a couple of days later?


Was she mocking me or creepishly emulating me?

You decide. 

~AC

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