I'm Horrible at Laundry

At some point, "Fuck it I'll just buy more clothes" doesn’t work. The things now living under your pile of socks are only going to get stronger and smarter unless you suck it up and go get your clothes washed. 

"SSTAAAIINNSSS"

Funds
Unless you're living somewhere with a washer and dryer, in which case I hate you, you'll need plenty of quarters to fund your laundry excursion. These quarters tend to disappear around the same time your clothes start smelling terrible, so if you don't have some small bills for your laundromat's change machine, I hope you like the circus, because you're about to jump through some hoops. This may or may not involve trips to the ATM, (fucking fees) the bank, (fucking closed) or a local convenience store. This seems like an awful lot of work for the 21st century doesn't it? By now shouldn't there be a way to just tap bills and they'll go *ffttt* and *poof* perfect change? And while we're at it, how about some sort of laser hot dog cannon?

What? No. Not what I had in mind at all. What the fuck?

Washing and Drying
Anyway, now that you've wasted most of the day securing your quarters, you'll also need to secure your clothes along with the detergent, fabric softener, and if you're fancy, other products like bleach and stain remover (you disgust me). Then, as soon as you arrive at the laundromat, it's time to figure out how you're going to do this without whichever of those items you inevitably forgot. Next comes separating your lights from darks, and your delicates from the uh...from the, robusts? And by separate, I of course mean cram as many clothes as you possibly can into into the smallest available washing machine. People that concern themselves with anything besides "Will this all fit?" or "Will they let me come back after this?" probably already have a washer and dryer at home.

"Point me to your single load washer please good sir!"

After you're done cramming your clothes into an unrecognizable ball of neglect, you can relax and let the machine do its thing for a little while. This is good, you've earned a break. After a curiously long 24-26 minutes, it's time to pull your clothes out. For now we'll just ignore the fact that there's no way detergent found its way into every little crevasse of your ultra dense neutron star of a laundry pile, and transfer everything to the dryer. Oh all the dryers are in use? No worries, I'm sure once the next dryer finishes, the owner of those clothes will promptly remove them.

Look who's back.

Great! You're almost done. If your laundromat has one of those flat rate dryers for an hour, good for you! If instead you have a dryer that gets you 7 or 8 minutes for 25 cents, welcome to the world of poor decisions. While 32 minutes might be enough time if your load is say, one sock, chances are it won't quite cut it for the sentient pile of clothes that by now can probably beat you at arm wrestling. But you're going to go for the bare minimum of time anyway aren't you? Go ahead, set the dryer as if your clothes are going to come out anything besides "hot...still pretty wet though."

I'll just leave my clothes under this rocket here...

Aftermath (Or if you're from the UK/Australia, "Aftermaths")
Congratulations! Your laundry is finally done. It's time to bask in the glory of not having to do it again for "definitely no longer than two weeks" (probably closer to a month). The high you get from being responsible and completing the chore is sure to make you short-sighted, and will inspire several more bad decisions, the first of which being to not fold them quite yet. 

I'm gonna pick out my favorite shirt, and go party.

A few days will go by and the non-wrinkly benefits you would have gotten from promptly folding your clothes have now gone out the window, so you might as well just dump your shitty clothes on the floor. 



Eventually the clean clothes will mix with the dirty ones and become guilty by association. The "flip the underwear inside-out" trick will start to gross even you out, and before you know it, the things living under your pile of socks are becoming sentient once again. Oh look, it's time to return to the laundromat!


You still disgust me.