Last night I had to do laundry. A ton of laundry. Lights, darks, towel and the slipcover for my couch. The paranoia from a potential bed bug scare had us so wigged out, we were washing everything in sight. Rachel and I bagged it all up (she was helping w/the slipcover) and we headed to the laundry room. Towels in, darks in, lights in, slipcover in. Good.
We went back up to our apartment to wait for everything to wash. Then Rachel headed over to her friends apartment to remove all of the potential bed bugged crap from the building (she was storing overnight for a friend–but I put a stop to that and we moved it out of our apartment w/in 15 minutes of it getting there). I went back down the laundry room and got ready to put everything in dryers.
I opened the slipcover washer. Hm, those blue spots look remarkably like detergent. Oh, that’s b/c they are. I shuffled the placement of everything around in the washer and set it for another cycle. Then I put the towels in the washer and started it. I used my laundry card for this. Remember this detail. It’s going to be important in another few sentences.
I opened the lights washer and threw everything into a cart to roll it to the dryer. I rolled it over, filled the dryer and went to insert my laundry card. Hey, what the–
My laundry card was nowhere to be found. I checked the newly filled dryer for it, assuming I’d thrown it in accidentally. Nothing. I looked over to the dryer where my towels were spinning. It couldn’t be in there, could it? No–it couldn’t be. It’s running. I would have had to turn it on with the card and the door would have had to be shut for that to happen. I must have dropped the card, right?
After literally 15 laps through the laundry room (which were probably not more than 15 feet long each b/c I don’t like to spread my stuff that far apart in the laundry room) the card was nowhere to be found. I emptied my laundry basket, in case it was hiding behind a dryer sheet or one of the “air dry only” things I had in my basket. Nothing. At this point I felt like I was losing my mind. There was nowhere this card could have gone; no one else was even in the laundry room with me except the woman who has no hands, and I’m pretty sure she didn’t take it.
I went back upstairs to grab a $20 so I could buy a new card. Even though I still had $3.65 on my now-missing card. BUMMER!
I went back downstairs, to the laundry card machine and–screwed. The machine only takes $10s. It SAYS that it takes $20s but it lies. I went to ask our doorman if he happened to have change for a $20. No dice. But then I saw Rachel, standing in the foyer with the bugged bags, waiting for her friend to come pick her crap up. I asked if she had change–or her laundry card. She had neither. But her friend was coming–maybe the cabbie would have change? He didn’t. I stood in the foyer for 10 minutes, in the Sig Ep Chi shirt I’d made for a “phrat” party senior year (yeah, the Greek letters spell SEX. I’m very mature), Old Navy plaid boxers that I’ve had for about 8 years and my leopard print Steve Madden slippers/boots.
During that 10 minutes not one delivery guy could help me out with change. But one of the girls in the apartment where we stashed the stuff came home from work, saw me standing there and started laughing. Hysterically. Then told me that I was a hot mess. I couldn’t even disagree.
Rachel finally came back and took my $20 to Rite Aid to break it. She came back and I bought my new laundry card while she ran upstairs to grab hers so she could dry the slipcover. I grabbed a cart and went to unload my darks from the washer. The washer that, up to this point, I hadn’t opened since I loaded it. I pulled out some jeans, tees and socks (yeah, that’s right, black socks). I pulled out a sweater but the sleeve flopped on the side of the washer. When I grabbed the sleeve, that bastard laundry card was sitting there, on the ledge of the washer. It wasn’t there earlier. There’s not a chance. (Except that while I’m writing this, I’m realizing that it was colored side down and if I was looking for the graphic it may, possibly, have blended into the white of the washer. But, for sake of my sanity, I need to pretend that that isn’t true).
Great, so now I’ve found my card and I’ve purchased this stupid second card. Well fine, I’m going to need it tonight anyway. I load the darks, start the dryer. I move to the lights, put in the new card and ERR. Error message? Well that sounds about right for tonight. I pull the card out and put it back in the machine. It reads $6 then, before I can even press “start” it reads $3.90.
Are you kidding me laundry room!? After all you put me through tonight you are going to charge me for 3 loads of laundry that I didn’t even get to do?! You’ve GOT to be kidding me!! Of course, this means that I’ll be going to war with the company who makes the machines later today.
But there are still some questions that remain unanswered:
Why was the slipcover so big that it couldn’t even rinse the detergent off until I shuffled things around?
Why was it also so big that it didn’t dry a bit until we put it on a second cyle (also medium heat) that dried it completely?
Where…WHERE…did my freaking laundry card go?! And how did it just reappaear?! (In regards to the earlier parenthetical theory–I don’t think it could have been there w/o me noticing something when I opened the lid. Maybe not in my graphic-seeking sweep of the room, sure, but I would have had to see it when I opened the lid. Right?)
We got back in the elevator, after this was all (mostly) over and Rachel summed the night up for us:
Why is everything so mysterious?!
I still don’t know. But I do know that after this whole project we watched The Hills in bed. Partly b/c we were so freaking tired.
And partly b/c the slipcover wasn’t dry yet.