Why do I always choose to leave my laundry until the last moment? Is this just a "guy" thing or is it my own personal avoidance? I honestly wait until I'm on my last pairs of everything before I decide to wash everything...well last pairs of everything that matches, anyway. I wouldn't think walking around in plaid white and brown shorts and a maroon dress shirt would go over well at the office.
Sometimes I think that I am one step away from being the kind of person that just buys new clothes when it's time for a wash, just because laundry is so time consuming. Sure, you dump everything into a machine and leave it. But you can't really LEAVE. You have to stay in the building. And you have to check up on it from time to time so you don't leave dry clothes sitting in a haphazard wrinkled way.
I'm not sure if "karma" or *fill in the blank with whatever superstition you feel fit* is trying to teach me a lesson, but when the laundry day does eventually come, there always seems to be a problem.
The last time I had to do laundry, some biotch from the first floor was using all four machines. She must wait until the last moment too, though she often has grandchildren and family visiting so maybe she's washing for all those bastards. But either way I think it's extremely rude to use everything. Sure, it's a coin-op system, but there are still other people that need to use the machines. Why can't people have some respect and leave one set of washer/dryer free for someone else?
Answer? Because they hate doing laundry too and want to reduce the inconvenience as much as possible.
The time before, a dumb cow living above me decided to swoop in and take my clothes out of one of the dryers. I wasn't gone that long, but she dumped EVERYTHING on the top of the dryer. Didn't have the courtesy to fold anything or knock on my door and let me know my clothes were done (she knew they were my clothes since we passed each other to change loads beforehand. To add insult to injury, she had a free dryer available but like the other idiot previously mentioned, she was in a hurry and needed both dryers. UGH!
But this time was arguably the most fun. I decided to get up bright and early on my day off so that I could be done all these loads of laundry before noon. I packed up my detergent and all the clothes and headed down to the laundry room. I opened the door and whatever do I see? One washer running and spraying water against the wall it was backed up against, a second washer pulled away from the wall with an "out of order" sign on it, and a pool of water on the floor at least a half inch deep. I'm not sure what happened as both units were faulty. It could have been a ruptured hose, but since both machines seemed to have been broken, I'm willing to bet it was sabotage.
By whom, you ask? Well by my loud obnoxious neighbour. The one whose foot was backed over during a petty white trash domestic argument outside my balcony window. You see, he is divorced and living in a below-ground suite now. He has a raggedy, strung-out-looking blonde crackhead of a girlfriend who may or may not in reality be a man. Anyway, the woman's daughter was upset about something (who cares?) and stormed out of the building. The girl, maybe 15 or 16, got into her mother's Intrepid and fired it up. Well, mother and loud obnoxious neighbour came out screaming. You know...like there's no one else around their proverbial single-wide trailer. Loud obnoxious neighbour stood behind the vehicle so the girl could not back out (a cement barrier prevented her from going forward) but the girl backed up anyway, successfully running over his foot. Cursing ensued and the mother screamed at the girl until the girl gave up and exited the vehicle. They all went back into the building to the apartment (this building is cement, so fortunately I didn't have to hear the remainder of the hillbilly convention below me).
Sorry...that's what you call a tangent. Anyway, the loud obnoxious neighbour was given eviction papers as he was not paying his rent. I heard him bitching about the land lady from his apartment window when I was exiting my car one evening. So he certainly would have motive and is certainly upset. And his awesome whiskey tango lifestyle means that stereotypically he is the kind that would sabotage a washing machine or two in retaliation.
But I digress. The damage was done. The great flood and two broken machines meant I wasn't going to wash my shit at a reasonable hour. So I wait. And wait. And wait. The plumber comes. And I wait. And wait. And wait. The plumber leaves and I decide to start my laundry. I go down there and...there are four people in there! I'm told that they all wanted to do laundry (on a Thursday morning?) too and were just going to put their baskets down in a silly line. I left.
Finally, at 3:00PM, I go down and there are available machines. I put in some detergent into one of the washing machines. Then I put change in to get the thing to run. But...it took my money and didn't give me water! I tried the other machine but someone left their god damned clothes in there! I went to my land lady's apartment to try and get her to fix the other machine or give back my money but she wasn't home. So I went back to the laundry room, took out the person's clothes and put them in the broken washer. My clothes washed and are now in the one dryer that is free.
I know this is a somewhat boring story, but it certainly fits the criteria of stupid things that boys do and things that only happen to me.
By the way, FML stands for Fuck My Laundry.