Woe Is Me... And My Laundry

Last night I was able to identify the point in my life where I can truly consider myself a “grown up.” And that, I’ve decided, is when I am finally blessed with a washer and dryer in my own home.

I’m frantically trying to get ready for my trip to White Pass this weekend, which includes the normal preparations such as shopping, packing and LAUNDRY. However, with my busy schedule I am really feeling pressed for time to get everything done before I leave Friday afternoon. And honestly, rushing home from work so I could load up all my laundry, drag it down the hallway to the elevator and into our basement laundry room in the hopes that one of the three washers would be available did NOT seem appealing. Especially considering that I needed to get about three loads done or risk snowboarding commando.

But upon penalty of being tarred and feathered or even death, we restricted by our HOA from doing laundry after 9 p.m. This creates a huge conundrum for those of us who work until 6 or sometimes 7 p.m. The situation was really starting to stress me out.

Ever since moving to Seattle three years ago I have been dealing with laundry drama. Apartment buildings in this city rarely supply enough washers and dryers in their ghetto basement laundry rooms to accommodate the large number of building residents. So unless I want to give up an entire Saturday running up and down the stairs hoping that I will time it just right before someone else comes along and tosses my clean, wet laundry onto a dirty, stained counter and I lose the machine, I have to figure out other means of wearing clean clothes.

Most often I will haul it down to my parent’s house in Olympia when I visit. WAY to reminiscent of college. I AM 26 YEARS OLD, PEOPLE. Yes, this saves me about $10 in quarters, but it’s honestly starting to become a little embarrassing. Stewart, seeing my stress this week about getting ready for our trip, generously offered for me to come over and do laundry at his place, where he conveniently has his very own stackable washer and dryer in his apartment. God that sounds glorious. So I caved, and lugged my basket of dirty clothes downstairs, into my car, over to his building, up the elevator and into his apartment. Does this sound like fun to anyone else? I’d much rather get my exercise at the gym.

As long as I continue to deal with this problem it still feels far too much like my college lifestyle. I am SO looking forward to the day when I can pick up my laundry basket and carry it 10 FEET into another room and do a load of laundry, at my leisure, at 11 p.m. When I can choose to wash ONE SWEATER if I want without wasting $3. When I can leave my laundry in the dryer without worrying that someone will toss it onto a detergent and lint covered table, causing me to do the load all over again. When I can throw a pair of jeans into the dryer just to remove wrinkles and tighten them up for a night on the town. It’s going to be absolutely amazing.