First a quick update... Yes we are all moved in to our temporary digs over here at Parkmerced. Second, I will write more on that later. Third, I had to do my laundry in the neighborhood laundromat for the first time today. It was a little joke from hell.The initial obstacle was getting in to the actual laundry facility. They give you a code. They do not tell you that you need to punch in the code 7,142 times before you can decipher the correct sequence of punching in said code, pushing unmentioned "entry" button and then jiggling the actual door handle. I should mentioned that the first 3,571 attempts were made while balancing a giant basket of laundry between hip and door. I thought that perhaps the smell of "boy laundry" was inhibiting my ability to crack the code issue. Turns out I was just stupid.
Second obstacle was purchasing a "laundry card." This little ingenious device is supposed to make your life easier by not having to carry your laundry AND a Brinks truck full of quarters with you. Yet, the purchase of the card took about 15 minutes and various swear words. I got the first card when we first got here on Saturday. That took 20 minutes and a shit-storm's worth of swearing. I promptly put it somewhere where I wouldn't forget it. I have no idea where it is. Some day, just around the time I pack to leave, I will find this lost card with $30 worth of quarters on it. The truncated 15 minutes today proves that I can be taught. It has yet to be determined whether or not I will lose this one. Time will tell.
Third obstacle - the rules of the Laundromat say that you are to "clean the lint traps before starting your load." What crackhead thought this was the way to do things? How about changing the rule to say "clean the lint traps AFTER you remove your clothes from the dryer"? Cause, let me tell you, I'm-a gonna haffta get myself some serious laundry-doing rubber gloves before I remove someone elses' whatnot from their lint traps again. The bits of fluff and clothes particles from an unknown person were bad enough, but there were some long dark hairs in one of the link traps and I as I cleaned it, my saliva thickened enough to start a pretty gosh darn scary gag reflex and I nearly hurled on my clean wet clothes.
Fourth obstacle - I returned to get my dry clothes to find that someone had unceremoniously dumped them in a pile on the folding table. It seemed that while the upper level dryers were vacant, a fellow laundry-user felt that taking my clothes from the lower dryer was the better solution than to using the upper dryer. On one hand, I can appreciate the challenges of the upper /lower dryer conundrum. I was faced with this hurdle myself. At the lofty height of 5'2" the upper dryer is not a optimum choice. I can't see the bottom of the drum and would need to snake my hand in and around above my head looking for the errant sock or panties that would have escaped the initial pile removal from the dryer. I either needed a step stool or the courage to snake around in there. I had neither nor wanted to procure either, so I did opt for the lower dryer.
Still, it would have never occurred to me to removed someone else's clean laundry from a lower dryer if an upper dryer was vacant and empty. What I didn't like about it was that a) the anal retent in me did NOT like that some nameless (and therefore creepy and contaminated) person touched my clean clothes, and b) that said clothes were now fully cooled, wrinkled and in a messy pile. Frankly, I felt like washing them all over again. I also entertained the idea of exacting some laundry-room revenge on the discourteous creature who expelled my clothes from the warmth of the drum. I thought that when I left I would just crack open the door to their dryer and leave their clothes in a moist semi-dry steamy state. This revenge would have a tri-fold effect. It would serve to cause permanent wrinkles in just about fabric type. It would financially penalize the perp since it would cost another $1 to start the beast again. And, it would mean that whoever did this would be $1 closer to having to reload their laundry card thereby wasting lots of time wrestling with the laundry card refiller machine.
In the end, I did nothing. I just stewed while I folded. I talked to my sister later who suggested that she might have opened the dryer, spit on their clothes and then closed in again. She's a genius. I wish she had been with me while I folded and stewed. Next time I will call her. I would have felt better.
Yup, laundry. Makes me a basket case. Badda dump dump dump. Damn, I like to end on a good pun.....
No comments:
Post a Comment