k, so I'm just estimating, but I say the laundromat is about a quarter of a mile from my front door, which seemed not at all daunting when I set out with basket in hand. But by the time I got into the laundry room, the plastic edges of the basket had imprinted themselves so deeply into the skin of my fingers that it hurt more to peel my hands away than to just leave them there forever.
Undaunted, I got to work. Three loads of laundry in, I decided to go back to my apartment and get a garbage bag of laundry that I had on reserve. Three more loads. Then Shayne texted to thank me for doing the laundry, so I went back to the apartment to get his laundry bag too. Only two loads. He changes clothes much less frequently than I.
By the third trip, I started carrying the basket on my head, as my hands just weren't having it any more.
But now I began to run out of money for the dryer. I decided to do a bit of a dance -- I quickly pulled two loads out of the dryers halfway through their cycle, and then I replaced them with wet laundry. feeling proud of myself, I walked back to the apartment with two loads of damp clothes in a basket on my head. I hung up everything that needed hanging, piled the rest on my bed for folding later, and headed back with the empty basket to get more clothes. Another two loads in a basket on my head, hanging what needs hanging, piling the rest to sort later. Empty basket.
And again. more laundry on my head. By this time I was out of money, so once I was done hanging I jumped in the car and zoomed over to Walmart, where Shayne gave me five dollars. back again to the laundry room, then returning to the apartment with two last loads of laundry on my head.
At the end of the day:
Miles Walked: 2.5 (in dress shoes)
Loads Washed: 8
Money Spent: $12.00
Fingers Mangled: 8
Bruised heads: 1
Huge Piles On Bed: 1
Baskets Of Non-Folded Men's Clothes: 1
Resplendent Housewives In Pearls: 0
No comments:
Post a Comment