Laundry Day Sucks

So it’s snowing outside right?

Take my word for it.

Anyway, I get sent home early from work so now I’m puttering around the house trying to figure out something to do that doesn’t involve waking up my wife since she works third shifts.

That’s when it occurs to me.

I can do the laundry!  That way we have some nice, clean and warm clothes to putter around in and it’s one less thing she needs to worry about!  I mean sure, it’s been a bit since I had done laundry but there is no way it could be that….

Holy fuck.  That is a lot of damn laundry.

Our laundry machines are not in the apartments we live in, rather there is a communal area where the washers and dryers are housed.  Kind of like a lepers village, except they can tumble or permanent press.

Each load is $2.50.  That’s including washer and dryer.

I look at the sea of dirty clothes and do some basic math in my head.

I have $20 in quarters.

It is $2.50 a load.

So I can do like…10 loads!

I gather up the laundry, take it downstairs carefully as it is snowing outside and begin emptying my laundry basket into the waiting maws of the washing machines.

There are only four washing machines and three dryers in the laundry room.

There are 60 apartments in my complex.  With about 2-4 people living in each apartment.

I do some more basic math, fairly proud of myself that I was able to figure out how many loads I could do earlier so easily in my head.

That means there are like….2000 people living in my complex!

I figure that it won’t be long before other people decide to start doing their laundry today too so I fill up all four washers and scurry upstairs, setting a timer on my phone so that I know when I can race back down to fill them up again before anyone else gets a chance to.

Basically, in an apartment complex like this; with so few available machines; getting your laundry done in a timely manner is less of a chore and more a battle within the Thunder Dome.

30 minutes pass by and I briskly move back downstairs with more dirty clothes in tow.  I see two people already moving my clothes out of the washing machines and onto the folding table.

Those sons of bitches.

Now I only have two available washers for the basket on my back and two available dryers for the sea of now wet clothes on the sorting table.

I do some basic math in my head.

Like Moses parting the Red Sea, I separate the four washers worth of damp clothes into the two dryers.  Then, much like King Solomon and the baby I stuff four loads of dirty clothes into the two available washers.

I’m a fucking genius!

I head back upstairs.  Timer set for one hour so I know when the dryer is done.

I decide to eat some buffalo wings.  That isn’t really part of the story, just thought I’d throw in there that I love me some hot wings.

I waste time between downloading games on Steam and dicking around on Facebook.

An hour passes.

As I head out the door, my wife reminds me not to dry her bras or pants.  I assure her I haven’t forgotten.

I race downstairs and make it to the laundry room with no one else inside and beginning pulling clothes out of the dryers.

They’re a bit damp.

I do a bit of basic math in my head.

They’re still hot from the dryer so they’ll just finish drying as the heat goes away!  Just like a roast that you leave to rest after pulling it out of the oven!

Man.  I am so damn smart.

I begin shoveling the wet clothes into the dryers, finishing that task right as my downstairs neighbor comes in.

He looks at the full dryers and then at me, standing post at the washing machine; putting more clothes in.  I remember that this is the same guy that likes to blast his terrible fucking music at 7 in the morning everyday, waking up my wife and making it impossible for her to sleep.

I suddenly don’t feel so bad.

He glances at me questioningly and begins complaining about how inconsiderate some people are.  I’m genuinely surprised that he doesn’t implode from the intrinsic hypocrisy of that statement.

I go upstairs with my now moist laundry in tow and set to work folding it.

My thoughts during that:

I’m sure these clothes’ll dry soon. 


Jesus Christ, we have a lot of sweatpants.

Heh.  That sock is pretty damn funny.

Why do I still have this shirt?

More sweatpants.

These clothes smell like mothballs sort of.

I think the sweatpants are mating when no one is watching. 

An hour passes.

I head downstairs to get the next load of laundry and put the wash in.

I realize I’m out of quarters.


About gerrimyke

Nothing much to say really. A while back, I started to notice that as I was telling friends stories of my life, they were unsure if they were true or not. Then when they found out they were, suggested I write them down. So here we are.
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