And here I thought my other laundry problems were bad…

Friends, do you remember my New York laundry problems?

Well, just when I thought my unmentionables were safe, tonight happened. I desperately needed to wash my yoga gear, and went down the hall to the laundry room, mutter-praying that the machines would be free so I wouldn’t have to trudge my stuff to another laundry room farther down the hall. (An oft occurrence as my neighbors like to use up all three machines to luxuriously wash four things in each.) To my delight and amazement, all the machines were available – score! 

Upon entering, I saw a note from management informing us residents that the machine that adds money to the laundry card is broken and wouldn’t be repaired until next week, so “Make sure you have enough money on your card before you insert it in the machine!” (as you’ll never see that money again as I have learned the hard way – did I mention my building’s management basically sucks?). 

I’d remembered that my laundry partner had put $20 on the card not too long ago, so good thing for me, I was safe. Think again. I inserted the card into one washing machine (of two that I needed for my two loads) that reported the card balance was $2.25. Not enough to do two loads, just enough (thank goodness) to do one wash plus one dry. Ok, so *grumble, grumble* one giant load it is. I added the detergent, let it fill a little, then went to add my clothes in. And what did I see floating atop the water? A lolipop wrapper. 

Good grief, that is gross. But what could I do? I picked it up, tossed it out, dropped my clothes in, and tried to unsee what I had seen. 

Fast forward thirty minutes when I go to transfer the load into the dryer. There’s a lady in there with a mysterious laundry basket full of plastic bags. She proceeded to open each bag and drop the contents into the machine, *plop, plop, plop*. Guess what the bags contained? Dirty diapers? Naked turds? Not exactly, but good guess (and equally as unsanitary!). 

Dirty sneakers.

Pair after pair, in the same washing machine that my underwear goes in. That’s the last straw for me. I mean, who washes sneakers in a shared washing machine? Not even with lots of (or any) bleach added?

I am never going to be able to wear my clothes again without feeling like I’m draped in someone’s shoe scum. Thanks for that, lady. Hope you enjoy your sparkling clean sneakers! 


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