I've had so many problems with the only laundry room I'm allowed to use regularly in my apartment complex (They let me use another laundry room in the complex once. I've subsequently asked to use it again, and my request was denied, which pisses me off, because I have paid thousands of dollars of rent here over the years.). There are 3 washing machines, and at least one of them is out of order frequently. There can be a lot of competition for these machines. Lots of times, I've checked to see if I could do laundry, only to find that the machines were being used. The last time I attempted to do laundry, only one of the washers was working, and it was being used. I had to go to a local coin-operated laundry, which wasn't fun. There were quite a few loud, out-of-control kids there. I left an angry message at the apartment's office, telling them what happened, and saying, among other things, "You raise the rent every year here. Buy some washing machines." A few days later, I called the office again, this time about my asshole neighbors, and the office manager asked if it was me who left the message about the laundry room (I didn't leave my name on the message, but she knows my voice because of how many times I've complained about my neighbors.), and I said it was. She said that 2 new washing machines were on the way. That was over a month ago.
I needed to do laundry: badly. Doing laundry is like shopping at the nearest Walmart; it never goes very well; at least one shitty thing will happen. I really dread doing laundry. I checked the machines. They weren't being used, but one of the washers was out of order. What the fuck? Considering what I had been told, none of them should have been out of order! And the maintenance workers are so lazy. They don't even put a sign up; they just unplug the machine. But at least there were 2 washers, which is what I needed. So I got my dirty clothes and started putting them into the machines. I heard some people. Two guys came into the laundry room. They said they were going to be switching the "out of order" washer, which was between the 2 I was using, with a new one. Holy shit! You have to be fucking kidding me! There was only a 27-minute window in which I was going to be using both washers, and that's when they were going to be switching the machines! My luck is just unbelievable! I was worried that they were going to fuck up my laundry. They could knock the plug loose of a machine I'm using. They could bump the old, or new, washer into one, or both, of the machines I'm using, which could result in a fuck up.
Meanwhile, I realized that one of the washers I was using wasn't working. The light came on, but nothing was happening. I angrily moved my clothes to the "out of order" washer; maybe that was working. The guys came back, and one of them told me that machine was not working, and it was unplugged. I moved my clothes back to the one that didn't work and told them about it. One of them opened a panel and pushed a button. The machine started, but it was in the wrong cycle. "There's no water in there?" one of them asked. "No," I said. So he pushed some more buttons, and it seemed like he finally found the right cycle. Before I left, I thought about asking them to not fuck up my laundry, but decided that probably wasn't a good idea.
When I returned, to put my laundry into the dryers, one of the loads was finished. Alarm bells went off in my head. It had finished too early. They had fucked up my laundry! I opened the machine and inspected the laundry. It seemed okay. I couldn't help noticing that the old washer had been replaced. The other washer was still going. It takes about 10 minutes longer to finish than the one that was done. Even though the laundry room is small, I spend that waiting time pacing energetically from one end of the room to the other (for exercise) until it is done. Something was wrong with that machine too! It was taking too long to finish! So they fucked up BOTH of my loads: worst-case scenario! It was taking so long to finish, I was worried that it WOULDN'T finish, that it would keep going forever, unless it was unplugged, which, of course, would result in fucked-up laundry. In fact, a laundry token was left in the slot for that washer, which I assume one of the workers had left there for me, because they had fucked up my laundry. I tried to get the token out, but I couldn't. It finally stopped, and I inspected the laundry; again, it seemed to be okay.
When I was completely done with the laundry, I still wasn't sure if it had been fucked up or not. When I put on some freshly-washed clothes, I paid special attention to how they felt. Did they feel clean? Were they making me itchy? How did they smell? Because of my OCD, I smelled my freshly-washed clothes over and over again. They smelled okay. I was itchy, but I'm always itchy to some degree. And how much of that itchiness was originating in my mind?
In retrospect, I believe my clothes are clean. I'm too lazy to go through all that crap again anytime soon anyway. So, despite all the stress and drama (I yelled, cursed my luck, and I was close to crying when I was furiously pacing: waiting for the machine to stop.), I think I ultimately was lucky, because those guys were there to fix the problem I was having with the washer I was using.
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