The Joys of Laundry - December 4, 2006

(Reconditioning Batteries)

8:00 pm - After a busy day of running around on 2.5 hours of sleep, I decide that I should throw a load of laundry in while I'm still awake and have some free time. I pick up my hamper already full of stinky, poopy (yet unbearably snazzy) threads, toss in my bed sheets and pillowcases and march out the door to the laundry room down the hall.

8:02 pm - Upon arrival, I discover that all both washers and both dryers are occupied. I see only one unattended laundry basket, which leads me to believe that some asshole decided that he is King Jerk of Obnoxious Mountain and he can use up all the machines at once. Fine, whatever. No big deal. I leave my hamper in the laundry room and head back to my apartment.

8:45 pm - Figuring that I've given more than enough time for the washers to run their course, I make the journey once again to the laundry dungeon.

8:47 pm - Both of the washers are off, but both of the dryers are still on. OK, relax. I'll clean out my fish tank, and when I'm done with that I should be good to go for some sudsy, coin operated lovin.

9:13 pm - This time I walk down with my roommate, who needs to use the sink in the laundry room to wash his delicate little metrosexual garments by hand. We get down there and sure enough, nothing has fucking changed - washers still giving me their best Terri Schiavo impression, dryers still giving me their best Michael J. Fox impression.

9:18 pm - OK, fuck this dude in the mouth with a thermos. I hate being the guy that does this as I have been in this guy's shoes before, but seriously, it's almost been an hour and a half - he's getting a shit sundae. I grab all of his soggy Izod rugby shirts and tighty whities and throw them on the laundry table next to his basket, replacing the void with my own stank duds. Where there was once frustration was now tranquility and all was right in my world. I swear I hear birds chirping...

9:20 pm - As I'm putting in that new fangled concentrated liquid detergent that looks like blue booger snots when you pour it, a guy walks into the laundry room and I can immediately tell that he was the culprit; pre-ripped Abercrombie hat, pre-ripped Abercrombie shorts, flip flops and - you guessed it - an Izod rugby. He looks at me, looks at what I'm doing, looks at the laundry table, grabs his laundry basket and just stands there staring at me like I threw his newborn daughter on a George Forman grill. Immediately I can tell that he's waiting for an apology from me for disturbing his peasant garments, which was comical to me because I'm waiting for an apology from him for thinking that it's ok to tie up every laundry machine in a building with 30 tenants and making me wait for him to finish building a reclining chair out of Bud Light cans or whatever the fuck college kids do so I can throw a meager load of wash in and relax.

I never even bother making eye contact with him; I toss my quarters in, start that bad boy up and walk upstairs, frustrated with myself because I can't even do a load of laundry without God kicking sand in my eyes . This is my life.

10:00 pm - Yeah, 40 minutes is about right. I abandon my nightly news website perusing ritual and stroll back down to WasheyTown. "Nice, my shit is done! Wait, what's this...the dryers are still going?! What the fuck?!?", he must have thrown more quarters in when I was gone to make sure his fancy frat uniform was scalding hot before he dragged it back to DudeTropolis. Back upstairs for Mikey.

10:30 pm - Dryers are still going. I am completely exhausted, my eyes are glossy and the laundry table looks like it could be comfy. Bjorn the Village Killer keeps calling my cellphone. I let it go to voicemail.

11:00 pm - The dryers have finally stopped, but the guy that was supposed to take his clothes out is nowhere to be found. Summoning the very last remnants of my social ability, I strive to be a halfway decent neighbor and decide that I better let him take his clothes out this time...I don't want to look like some crazed, skivvy-sniffing gypsy.

11:17 pm - I am staring to have hallucinations of me wrapped in freshly laundered bed sheets while being pampered by a sea of virginal exotic concubines, all bearing my name scrawled in marker on their collective bosom. I reach out for it and it quickly dissipates.

11:30 pm - Homeboy has now had his garbage bag TJ Max spring sale wardrobe clogging up MY dryers for over two hours. Bjorn leaves me a text message asking me to reach out my hand so he can tag in. I am scouring the room for security cameras that might catch me pissing, shitting and vomiting in the open hatch.

11:57 pm - I am so tired I can't feel my face. The only thing keeping me from trying to will my heart to stop beating via prayer is , easily the funniest thing I have seen in a long time.

12:03 am - Michael 57:12 "BEHOLD, THE MIGHTY GATES OF SNUGGLES AND GOMORRAH SWINGETH OPEN!!" One of the dryers is still going and the other one is off and empty. For a moment I swear I see an infant John the Baptist inside, waving me in. I tear my wash out of the machine like I opted for the Physical Challenge to win a Pogo Ball on Family Double Dare, cram it in the dryer, slam the lid shut and literally punch the start button like I'm the fucking Fonz or something.

12:23 am - I am slumped over in my computer chair, intermittently drooling on my keyboard, chugging bottled water to stay awake and staring longingly at my naked mattress, yearning for it to be clad in velvety, dryer sheet scented loveliness.

12:26 am - I am slumped over in my computer chair, intermittently drooling on my keyboard, chugging bottled water to stay awake and staring longingly at my carpet, wondering how many stray pubic hairs and/or crumbs I would wake up with stuck to my face if I slept on it (This is how tired I am; my brain refuses to acknowledge that I could either sleep on the bed without sheets or go crash on the couch. Logic has completely escaped me at this point).

12:38 am - KungFu Mike is now sporting fleece sweatpants and dirty socks, shuffling his feet down the hallway like an escaped nursing home resident in the hopes that karma is done giving him a cosmic noogie and he may finally rest his legally retarded skull down on a clean pillowcase and accept the cold embrace of death.

12:39 am - It dawns on me that it has now taken me almost 5 hours to do one load of laundry. I feel like I want to cry but I start laughing instead, which genuinely worries me.

12:40 am - The laundry room is quiet. I flick the light on, grab my hamper, open the dryer lid and go to - wait...what is this? What the - no. No no no nO NO NO NO.

My clothes are still wet.

12:41 am - I scour the room for cameras again, this time hoping that I will find out that Ashton Kutcher is behind all of this. My next conclusion is that IzodGuy deliberately sabotaged my load by opening the lid and letting the timer expire. Of course it wasn't because the dryer was underpowered, which would explain why IzodGuy sprung for two sessions earlier. No, that is preposterous. He is obviously trying to ruin me. Fat chance, buttfuck. I reach into the pocket of my sweatpants for my change...

12:42 am - ...and I realize that I left my change in my jar. Upstairs.

12:44 am - Utilizing the prowess of a jungle cat, I reach into my change jar for the $1.25 in quarters I'll need to pay Charon to ferry me across the river Annoying, and manage to knock the whole jar over. Change rained onto my bedroom floor with a barrage of metallic pinging. I felt bad about being so loud at first, but then I realized that I probably gave the Jewish guy that lives beneath me a nocturnal emission.

12:46 am - Money is in the dryer. All systems are go.

1:30 am - I peel my face off of my desk to find that I fell asleep holding my bottle of water, effectively making me look like I pissed in my pants.

1:32 am - Walking down to the laundry room, I encounter a group of giggling gals, and judging from the smell of them, they had been out at the bar all night. I stroll by and say hi, and as soon as I pass them I realize that they're laughing at me because of the huge, dark wet stain on my crotch. The only time anyone walked by me throughout this entire venture was just now. And it was hot chicks. And I look like I pissed myself.

1:35 am - With toasty laundry in tow, I trudge back up to my apartment, toss the laundry on the floor and promptly pass out on my naked mattress before even turning the lights off.

Posted by KungFu Mike at 8:57 PM

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HA! i like.

Posted by: tumor at December 13, 2006 02:15 PM


Posted by: Wayland at January 8, 2007 09:45 PM

this made me tired

Posted by: Anonymous at November 13, 2007 12:01 AM

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