Apocalypse Now
Get excited everybody. For once, I am the recipient of the awkward in my story! I should take to the streets yelling "The Rapture or something is here!" like my good friend, Flula.
Anyways, I decided that it was about time to do laundry when my pile and Sammi's pile were starting to form into one and take over the room. As much as I love to claim her clothes as my own, the thought of a clothes carpet wasn't very appealing to me.
So, I headed down to the laundry room with my overflowing basket. There were already a few people in there, and I don't know what it is about doing laundry, but everyone seems to have some kind of secret. Everyone huddles over their washing machine like I'm about to personally steal that one forgotten sock. We don't make eye contact. We don't talk to each other. Apparently doing laundry is solitary business.
After struggling for a few minutes to fit weeks of laundry into the washer, I closed the lid and walked away, ignoring the stares of domestic goddesses. They think they're so cool just because they sort their laundry, and don't grunt like a man whilst trying to squeeze enough T-shirts to cloth a nerd army into a tiny washer. Pfft.
Anyways, the time came for me to switch my clothes into the dryer. There was only one other girl in there this time. We gave each other courtesy smiles and then went about our business. I had to remove someone else's stuff from the dryer, which I hate. Touching other people's clothes, even though they're clean, makes me make this face:
So, I begrudgingly moved their clothes, and then started piling in my own. It's a rather monotonous task, so I was just beginning to zone out when I heard, "Oh! You dropped this!" I turned around just in time to see this girl pick something up off the floor. She tossed it into the dryer and I watched it in slow motion as it twirled in the air and fell into the dryer. It was a pair of underwear. Look up at that picture of my disgusted face again. Yeah.
So, I headed down to the laundry room with my overflowing basket. There were already a few people in there, and I don't know what it is about doing laundry, but everyone seems to have some kind of secret. Everyone huddles over their washing machine like I'm about to personally steal that one forgotten sock. We don't make eye contact. We don't talk to each other. Apparently doing laundry is solitary business.
After struggling for a few minutes to fit weeks of laundry into the washer, I closed the lid and walked away, ignoring the stares of domestic goddesses. They think they're so cool just because they sort their laundry, and don't grunt like a man whilst trying to squeeze enough T-shirts to cloth a nerd army into a tiny washer. Pfft.
Anyways, the time came for me to switch my clothes into the dryer. There was only one other girl in there this time. We gave each other courtesy smiles and then went about our business. I had to remove someone else's stuff from the dryer, which I hate. Touching other people's clothes, even though they're clean, makes me make this face:
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| Luckily for everyone, I don't have to make this face too often |
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