Laundry Whoes

So here I am, just sitting and waiting. If the attendant’s itching to lock up, well, that’s just too bad for them. I’m stuck running yet another load of laundry when normally I’d be in the Zen zone of folding. Why the laundry encore, making me late for my ritualistic grocery run? Let me spill the beans.

Everything was ticking along fine. I tossed in a load and sauntered over to the Big Dipper for a double scoop of huckleberry ice cream dunked in chocolate—decadence at its best. Now, I bet you’re conjuring images of me, perhaps splattering ice cream on unsuspecting bystanders, or maybe dodging a rogue vehicle only to require an emergency wash to rinse off the gore. Hold your horses! It’s not that cinematic, but it sure did ruffle my feathers.

I sauntered back to the Green Hanger right as my laundry cycle was supposed to end. I lifted the lid only to discover a watery abyss—no laundry nirvana in sight. The blasted machine had given up the ghost, leaving my clothes swimming in limbo. So there I was, fishing out my soggy wardrobe. Much to the horror of onlookers, I schlepped my dripping mess across the floor to another machine.

And here I sit, somewhat pacified that I could vent about my ordeal via a blog post on my Palm while I wait out round two of this washing saga. Time to check on that. Hope your weekend goes smoother than mine!