It’s Laundry Time

I hate laundry.  I hate everything about doing laundry.  Currently I live in a building with a working washer and a non-working dryer, which is like taking a shower and then remembering you don’t own a single towel.  (it’s ridiculous)  Therefore, I am forced to go to the laundromat with the rest of the upper crust of society.

it's hard to see but that is a wedding party, and off to the left is a bum passed out, drunk (that guy, he goes to the laundromat)

it's hard to see but that is a wedding party, and off to the left is a bum passed out, drunk (that guy, he goes to the laundromat)

The people at these places are freak shows.  The last time I did laundry, there was a guy who had the serious comb-over, you know the kind I’m talking about. He just kept staring at me every time I came in to move my clothes, but he wasn’t staring at me in the ‘hey, you’re kinda cute way’ or even the ‘I am a psychopathic serial killer and want to kill you way’, but more like the ‘I’m going to put your clothes on when you go outside and dance around in them and put them back before you come in’ way.  I can’t prove he did anything, but he was really creepy, oh and did I mention he had a unibrow?

Aside from the absolute circus who goes to laundromat, you have the excruciating experience of actually lugging your clothes to the laundromat.  What I mean is that since we all hate the laundromat, we wait until we have absolutely no clean clothes left before we go, thus making carrying our clothes a burden, and therefore making the trip to the laundromat worse.  However, the solution to that problem would be to go to the laundromat more often, a solution about as popular as Zima (PLUG).  So after carrying the awkward duffel bag, or laundry basket(s), we find ourselves in a hot, steamy environment with the aforementioned freak show.  Now we must select our washers, and if we’re lucky we get a few together, but mostly we find ourselves with no such luck.  Then the waiting game begins, the standard washer runs about 30 minutes start to finish, just long enough to make you hate it, but not long enough to make you contemplate gnawing your foot off.  Then comes the dreaded dryer.  Anyone who has have ever dried anything knows the dryer is a crap shoot.  Some work better than others, and the difference between your clothes coming out wet, or so dry they shrunk, could be as small as 25 cents.  If the clothes come out wet, and you are so frustrated at the laundromat that you leave, or because you just don’t have any more quarters, you will find yourself drying your clothes for the next month.  And if your clothes shrink, well, it’s time for a shopping spree!  On top of having to guess the right amount of drying time, you also have to endure that drying time, usually around an hour.  An hour.  I’ll let you marinade on that for a second.  You already spent the past 30 minutes of your life in this hell hole, now you are asked to withstand double that.  It’s like asking a guy to make a full court shot in basketball, then when he is celebrating, tell him he needs to make a double full length court shot.  He’ll look at you like your crazy, because an hour in a laundromat after spending 30 minutes there, is like discovering that hell has a hell.

Hell has a hell, and this is what it looks like.

Hell has a hell, and this is what it looks like.

But there are those of you, who do not have to deal with the laundromat because you have your own washers and dryers.  And right now you are probably thinking ‘yeah, that’s me, I’m so lucky, I have my own washer and dryer’  WRONG.  You have Satan’s leash is what you have.  When I go to the laundromat, I know it sucks, but at least I can devote a portion of time to that suckage, when you own your own washer and dryer you are constantly doing laundry.  You find yourself always with either a washer or a dryer full of clothes, and you have given up part of your house to have this luxury.  Even though I am stuck going to the laundromat, at least I don’t have to look at those things when I am trying to relax at home.  Owning a washer and dryer is tantamount to worshipping the devil, in fact I’m quite sure the washer and dryer was developed by top Hell engineers as a portal to take over Earth, and God has no idea because he doesn’t do his own laundry, he uses the last method.

Fluff and Fold.  For those of you lucky enough to live close enough to one of these majestic palaces, you have my jealousy and hatred focused right on your face.  You drop off your clothes, you pick them up later in the day, or whenever is convenient.  You pay a little more than you would at the laundromat, but you don’t have to come up with all those stupid quarters.  Your clothes come back neatly pressed and folded, and in return a sock goes missing every once in a while.  The only other acceptable form of laundry is to throw out your clothes and buy new ones.

There is a reason we hire people to clean our clothes (maids) it’s because it fucking sucks.  END OF POST.

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