48 hours and too many quarters later...

When I was younger and relied on my Mommy to do my laundry (okay, I still rely on this), she would become rather irrate if I had multiple costume changes in a day and took more than 2 showers in a day, using 2 towels each time (one for my voluminous hair and the other to cover myself as I scuttle across the hallway to my room to get dressed). She'd tell me that I did not NEED to change 4 times a day or shower several times using new towel or two everytime (it really is necessary though considering the hyperhidrosis I tend to suffer from - see below post). However, last night I discovered why laundry is not only a chore, but a life ruiner. That's right, laundry made me cry like a bully during recess in 3rd grade.

I do laundry as often as any other 20-something-year-old, so, not often at all. I get down to the last pair of underpants - usually Spongebobs from about 5 years ago - until I really convince myself that maybe it's time to get the overflowing pile of soiled linens cleaned.

In college, laundry sucks for one reason - there is never an open dryer. Inconveniently college students all do laundry on either Thursdays - before the weekend, or Sundays - after the weekend. You think it would be easy for someone to plan out doing laundry on say, a Monday, to avoid this problem, but it honestly cannot be done. College students just cannot do laundry if it is not an issue for the upcoming weekend's wardrobe or if they do not need to clean the beer soaked outfits from a previous weekend. I fall into this category of people; I really do understand it.

Laundry in the real world sucks for the reason above (sometimes waiting for an open washing machine happens, and when it does, it's infuriating) AND finding quarters. When you don't need a quarter it seems to be the only piece of monetary metal on you, yet when you are in a situation where you deperately need quarters, like when doing laundry or when you really need M&Ms from a vending machine, you seem to dig into your pockets coming up with an assortment of pennies, nickels and dimes and NO quarters. It's just the way the world works.

All day Sunday I dreaded for evening to come upon me because I knew it was a dreaded laundry night. Luckily, I thought ahead and got quarters all ready. I venture to the 5th floor (there is one washer and one dryer on every other floor). To my delight, the first washing machine I see is open - off to an excellent start. I stuff in my weeks and weeks of filthy clothes into the machine, shove my quarters in the coin slot, and select the cycle. At this point, I'm feeling like a laundry-washing extraordinaire, a real professional in the booming laundry business.

A half hour later, I go to the 5th floor to do the 'ol transfer from washer to dryer - a usually quick and painless switch. I enter the laundry room to the smell of something on burning. The stench is awful. I walk slowly to the washing machine only to see a large handwritten sign saying that the machine is "Out of Order." Funny, I mutter to myself, because it was NOT "out of order" a half hour ago when my belongings were put into the machine. I open the machine to find my unwashed clothes sitting in a pool of dirty, dingy and utterly disgusting water. Before I can even start to cry - I panic. I close my eyes and shove my hands into the machine, pulling out my clothes as quickly as possible, like a clown pulling scarves out of its mouth in a sick, distrubing way, hoping I won't realize just how disgusting the whole thing is. I then realize that it will be impossible for me to carry an entire load of clothes soaking wet up two flights of stairs. I realize it will take multiple trips.

Oh! And let me inform you: I had just showered, even put lotion on!, minutes earlier. As I pick up the laundry basket to do my first run up the stairs to the 7th floor, the brown water leaks out of my laundry basket all over me. I am horrified. HORRIFIED is an understatement. I do the carrying as quickly as possible (it would have been a lot quicker if it was during my cross country days - you know when I didn't crave McDonald's at least once a week). Once all my clothes are in one place, I place the wet clothes into a new washing machine, use the last of my quarters, and select the correct cycle. I return downstairs to my floor, shower once again and change into literally the last two pieces of clothing I own - pajamas that looks as though someone knit them in 1910 - awesome.

I head upstairs, finally ready to put my clothes in the dryer and call it a night. Then I see it again - an sign - but this time the washing machine overheated so half my clothes were taken out - half of them in, half of them out, and all of them absolutely dirty. At this point in the evening, I realize I just want to clothes dry so I can take them back to my room without doing several stair workouts. I throw them in the dryer, use quarters borrowed from the neighbor next door to me and wait an hour before checking on them. But when I go check, I realize that yet another machine in the building is not working and I'll give you one hint as to what machine - it wasn't a microwave.

So after 3 hours and $4.50 in quarters, I was left with soaking wet, dirty, and smelly clothes (and not just smelly from my worrisome perspiration problem). To those who may be concerned - no worries, I went to a laundromat this evening and did my laundry where I was questioned by a man well into his 60s what "The Bachelor" was all about (I told him to take a good look at Jake the Bachelor and if he still couldn't figure it out, that's not my problem).

My mom will never have to tell me not to have my favorite "costume changes" ever again.