My apartment complex is huge. It takes up an entire street. Fortunately for me it has 3 laundry rooms spaced appropriately. Each apartment has washer/dryer hook ups but I posses neither, so these laundry rooms are very important in helping me not have dirty, smelly clothes. But they recently replaced all the super convenient, perfectly functional coin operated machines with ones that you need a preloaded card to use. Then just to upset me they put the magical-laundry-card-money-loading-machine in the laundry room at the other end of the complex/street. I have to use a debt or credit card to put money onto my new shiny laundry card and I can only do it in $10 increments. So fuck that! The apartment gods however, graciously left two washer and two dryers of the coin operated sort for us rebels who refuse to conform to their new evil ways. I found out there are quite a few people who have joined me in the laundry resistance. So those two washer/dryers are always in use. Last week one of the washers broke and has yet to be fixed, I found out today, leaving only one. Whenever I do my laundry I try to be gracious and take out my clothes as soon as they're done so that one of my comrades my then take part.
"Where is this going?" You ask.
"Why are you writing about laundry?" You ask.
Well you're the one reading it, so who's stupid now? If you had exercised a little patience we would be there already.
Ahem. Today I went to go wash my white work shirts only to find both machines ocupado. So I returned to my apartment in defeat but determind to return. I let a couple hours pass before my return. Upon said return what should I encounter? The same motherfucking clothes in the machines! That cunt faced cunt! So I humbly retreated once again, let a couple more hours pass before my next attempt. This time I had made preperations. So with a look of determination in my eye, armed with a bag of dirty clothes, dergant, some quarters and a note I made my way to the lauindry room. To my pleasnat surprise I found one of the machines to be vacant. I put in my 4 quarters and selected the "whites" cycle.
FUCK! this is the broken machine. I swear I saw clothes in here earlier. Twice! It was whites along with one yellow shirt and they were wet. Why did the laundry gods favor them and not me?
I proceeded to hit the coin return button repeatedly with no results. This is where my before mentioned note comes into play. It simply explained that I needed to use the machine because I didn't have any money on my card and that her neglected clothes were in the dryer. I'm paraphrasing, I probably didn't call her clothes "neglected" even though they really and truly are. I opened the sole remaining brother of the poor fallen coin operated washing machine, same clothes still inside, most of which was women's underwear and proceeded to fearlessly transfer the wretched clothes to the nearest dryer. Triumphant, I put my white shirts in and reached for my quarters.
FFFFFFFFFFUUUUUUUUUUUCCCCCCCCKKKKKKKKK!!!!!
Only 3? THREE!?!?!
I raced back home and scrounged up the needed quarter. Finally! I put my detergent in and closed the lid. Now all I need to do is retrieve my shirts. I will hang dry them and all will be right with the world
------------------------------------------------------
Quick follow up: The dryer that I transferred the hated clothes to was running. Maybe lot's-of-underwear-owning-bitch will realize that there are other people in the world. People who need to wash outerwear.
Subscribe to:
Post Comments (Atom)
No comments:
Post a Comment