Its so much fun doing laundry here in the states in apartment buildings. There's usually a dark room in the basement with washing machines, and everyone sneaks in there and fills the machines with their dirty pants (that means trousers here), trying to avoid awkward conversations with neighbors they do not want to see.
I enjoy doing the laundry and fear it in equal measures. My antisocial 0.009% of me dreads the potential bumping into neighbors scenario - especially when I am dressed in an outfit that should never be witnessed by ANYONE. I get my laundry basket ready within the safety of my apartment, select the detergent balls I need, along with full downy balls. I grab the necessary amount of quarters and carefully open my front door.
Off I run down the stairs with excitement and trepidation.
I then pretend I am on a game show and I have to fill both machines (one with colors and one with whites) as quickly as I can, select the correct setting, shut the lids, and enter the quarters, and run for my life.
Then there is round two. The collection of the laundry. Its done with the speed and fear of ninja chased by snakes.
No comments:
Post a Comment