Tales of Woe

If bad things happen too you, one of the best ways to feel better is to get sympathy. From lots of people. And where are there more people than the internet? I guess the real world has like six billion more people than the internet... but most of them are on average of 6225 miles away, which is a bit far to shout.

So I'm very terrible at doing laundry. I have never done laundry a day before I need too, and very rarely on the day that I do need to. More often, its the day after, which is a bit of a slippery slope- I mean, if you've already gotten over wearing a pair of socks dug out from the bottom of your hamper, there isn't really any other mental hurtles to cross in wearing ALL of your clothes a second time.... So doing laundry after the last minute is just a habit I've gotten into, and the events of my most recent fabric cleaning experience have not inspired me to do anything different.
It was Monday night, or something. The day is not important- what is important is the time- it was about 9:30 (On a Monday- I'm sticking with my story). Midnight minus 9:30 equals 2.5 hours to do laundry- plenty of time- 40 min in the washer, 70 min in the dryer. I was feeling pretty proud of myself for remembering to do laundry before midnight on the day I used the last towel, (although honestly I was just avoiding homework), and, carried on by my massive self-adsorbed prideful momentum, I decided- "No-! I'm not going down to the 7th floor washing machine- the dryers are terrible, and I don't want to spend the time or money on an extra cycle. I'll go to.... the 5th floor!"
And so i did.
I took the elevator (from the 8th floor) down to the laundry room (on the 5th floor)
I had a nearly full hamper, which barely fits in the washer, but for the last 14 months I have been able to get away with it- there was a little voice in my head though "Hey- Hey you- your going to ruin your life in the immediate future if you do that"
But that little voice is always wrong, so I went ahead, added detergent, and hit go, and went up to my room.
Now all I had to do was wait.
To make waiting more efficient, the washers and driers in my dorm can be monitored online. There's a little grey picture of the washing machine on the website, which turns white when the cycle finished, and a little number indicating how many minutes left the washer has to merrily wash my clothes.
The little grey picture didn't turn white, even thought there were no merry little minutes left in the cycle.
In fact, it started counting how many extra merry little minutes it had washed my clothes.
I decided not to trust the little picture- it felt like valet merrily saying he would go get my car for me, but it might, he would say, with a smile on his face, take a while, because he was going to use it to drive his kids to soccer practice for the next few years first- they were such wonderful kids, and would I like to see some pictures? He had them in his wallet.
I digress
I went down to the  laundry room. The washer was not making noise. It also indicated it had alot of minutes left in the cycle. I opened it . My clothes sat, like a fetid pile of miserable dingo's kidneys in 3 inches of dirty wash water.
Um...... I asked the monkeys in my brain to see if we had a washing machine manual, but they shrugged and said "I doubt it" and went back to eating the bananas of my sanity.
I closed the washer, and pressed "go" again, as if nothing has happened. The machine made a pitiful sounds, a cross between a sick duck and saw blade music.
Um......
I'll just put them in the other washer and run another cycle (ignoring the fact that I would probably only get a second dying duck for my lack of understanding rudimentary cause-and-effect)
I slopped all of my clothes into the other washer, making a terrific mess all over the floor, getting my slippers wet. I dug quarters out of my pocket and plugged them into the machine and hit go.
Only it didn't.
The digital display was off.
It looked dead.
I pressed the quarter return button. No quarters came out.
Um......
Well...... I couldn't just put them in the dryer- they were far too wet.
I would have to ring them out on the big utility sink next to the washer- but I would have to rinse the remaining soap off first. I slogged the clothes over to the sink, a few at a time, making an extraordinary mess on the floor. I rinsed off the clothes and rung them mostly dry with my hands. I did that for all of the clothes. It took forever it seemed. And about 3/5 of the way through my left hand was smarting and when I looked closer, I had two giant blisters due to all the twisting. I gingery wrung out the rest of the clothes "wrong handedly" which was awkward and painful.
Finally all of my clothes were in the dryer, and I set it for an extra 30 minutes because I couldn't get the clothes as dry as the washer spin cycle would.
I went up to my room and was more or less productive for 90 minutes.
Then I went down to get my clothes- guess what- not remotely dry.
And I had been looking forward to a shower all day followed by a toweling off with a warm clean towel.
I stood there, still stained with old washer water in damp slippers, staring at the damp garments in dismay, trying not to think of the blisters on my hand.
There was only one thing to do- put in even more money and come back in the morning to retrieve the dry clothes (At the point it was 12:45, Tuesday morning)
I did so. I went to bed after eating a delicious six pack of Oreos- that made me feel a little better.
The next morning was excited to have a long awaited, and now even more essential shower- i went to get the clothes. Guess what. Still wet. And my slippers were still damp.
I gave more money to the bloody machine and went to my room to mope.
In the end (60+ min later) I did get my shower. And it was glorious.