We’ve All Been There: Laundry Time

Your closet door won’t close around the bulging mass that is your laundry basket. The same basket that you have been rifling through for the past week to find something that isn’t too dirty to wear to class. This morning, as you stand in a towel that belongs to your roommate, you reach in and pull out a t-shirt. You sniff it and decide that with a few sprays of Burberry Brit, you can get by.

By Lauren

But the t-shirt sitch seems to be the least of your problems. As you open your underwear drawer you discover that just like your sock drawer, your tank drawer, and your jeans drawer, you are running on empty. Yes, even though you bought 35 pairs of underwear so you could do your laundry only once a month.

You are left with two choices: going commando and risking a Britney situation, or pulling on some bikini bottoms and risking a major wedgie day. (There is also choice #3 – wearing a pair of undies inside-out – but that is only for extreme circumstances… like living in the jungle.) Begrudgingly, you opt for #2, but only because #1 would mean you’d have to wash that last pair of sweats at the end of the day, leaving you with literally nothing to wear to the laundry room.

On your way out the door you remind yourself that you must stop for quarters on the way home from class so you can finally have some clean undies. Only after sitting with a major fredgie for 90 minutes, you shuffle yourself right past that bank and don’t realize until you are pulling off that t-shirt (which no longer smells like Burberry and only smells like your armpits) in the comforts of your dorm room. Too lazy to leave, you go on a mission for quarters.

You empty every purse, wallet and bag that you have. You open every drawer, dump out every pocket, and crawl into every crevice of your room. 20 minutes later, covered in sweat, you have enough money for 2 full loads…and that bracelet you’ve been missing since November. So you shove everything back into laundry bag (including the sheets you just stripped from your bed after realizing they’ve been on there for 3 months), grab your detergent and go.

After the long and arduous trek down to the basement carrying 50 lbs of clothes you open the machines and discover they are full.  You wait a few minutes for someone to come down and get their clothes – that are done! – but no one shows. Feeling that bathing suit creep back into wedgie zone, you decide to take matters into your own hands. You quickly take that girl’s clothes out, put them on the counter, load your stuff in and book it out of that room before she gets there and sees your face.

Yeah, we’ve all been there. Looks like it’s time to buy a few more pairs of underwear.