Yesterday was one of those laundry days. I HATE doing laundry. I rather be cleaning the bathroom then doing laundry. There was this time when I was about 4 years old where I showed my mom that I knew how to fold laundry. Big mistake! The next thing I knew, I was in a room full of clean laundry with the instruction to fold everything and she will put it away when I was finished.
Since that day, laundry has been the chore that I despised.
I had two hampers full of clothes (one more full than the other) and I only loaded one into the car because it was pretty late and I wasn't sure what time the Laundromat would close. The last thing that I wanted to do was drag 2 hampers out to my car only to find out that I would not be able to do anything with them. After that there is no way I was going to drag them up to my apt and drag them back down on another day so that meant laundry would be sitting in my car. Dirty laundry at that...
Turns out the Laundromat was still open and so I was doing the laundry I had brought. Is it psycho that I sprayed my basket with Lysol spray afterwards? I don't think so. I think it's kind of dirty to put just washed laundry back into the same laundry receptacle (whether it be a hamper, basket or bag) that was carrying the dirty laundry. Its kind of like washing dishes with dirty water... or something to that effect.
In any case, I sprayed my hamper with Lysol AFTER wiping it with water and detergent. I also sprayed the laundry cart, the one I planned on using to transport my clean laundry from the washer to the dryer. It was after this that the fun began.
I went to check on my whites and saw that the machine had broken during the final spin. As such, my laundry was sitting in water. I stood there wringing everything out , the best that I can. Then the two bottles of water I drank started to catch up to me. Almost every Laundromat has a bathroom but I have never used one before. The more I kept wringing water from my clothes, the greater my urge to go. Finally, I grabbed my phone and money and raced to the bathroom.
I then entered the most disgusting bathroom that I have ever seen. Or rather, the smelliest. It was disgusting. The toilet was sandwiched in the corner of this dingy looking unlit room. If you were not careful you would touch the sides of the wall. Urine covered the toilet and the smell was unbearable. But I did what I could because I had to go that badly. As I crouched over the bowl, I tried very hard to keep my elbows in for fear of touching the grimy walls. Once Done I couldn't even flush, I ran from the room and took a big breath of air outside.
AND I had to pay a quarter to get into that nasty, closet with a toilet in the corner!
I finished wringing out my clothes and loaded the whites into the dryer, taking into account the fact that the clothes were previously sopping wet, I added more time to the dryer.
Then I sprayed the counter that I was going to fold laundry on with Lysol.
It's garden fresh or some type of scent, but earlier I saw this little kid climbing on the counters, then on the washers. These were the huge triple load washers and his mother was just chatting away on the phone. I had to turn away because I couldn't bare to be a witness when he fell. Once I saw him falling, I would have ran to try to catch him and his mother would have looked at me like I was going to steal her child.
In any case...
I sprayed the counter with Lysol.
I checked the dryer with my first load of clothes and it was almost done but the clothes were not dry. Right after my check, the owner of the Laundromat came out and I told him the washer broke. The dryer cycle came to an end and as I was about to put in more quarters, the owner stopped me and added more time to the dryer to make up for the broken washer.
After all my clothes were dried, I folded them and left. By then it was almost 10.
Is it any wonder why I hate doing laundry?
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