Things I took for granted part 1

Throughout all of my childhood my mom did my laundry for me. I lived in a magical world where my drawers would suddenly be restocked with clean clothes on a regular basis.

In high school I started doing most of my laundry myself, but every so often I would come home to clean piles of clothes folded neatly on my bed. Don't get me wrong though, I definitely did appreciate it and am fairly certain I thanked my kind-hearted, amazing mother each time, but I'm sure some part of me still took it for granted.

In my first apartment away from home I had a washer and dryer right down the hall. I knew what I was doing and it was free. No big deal. Sometimes dirty laundry would stack up, but it was a pretty easy fix. I could leave it overnight in the dryer if I wanted.

The next apartment I lived in had the washer and dryer in the basement. You had to pay 50 cents to use the washer but the dryer was free. It was a minor inconvenience to haul my laundry down two flights of stairs and knowing that at least 10 people were sharing two machines, but it was still not a huge deal. The worst part of this was getting all of my laundry ready, bringing it downstairs and finding out that there were two loads ahead of me. The other bad part was having my favorite laundry bag taken and it never being returned.

I'm currently living in an old apartment building on the third floor. The laundry room is in the basement. To get to it though, I have to go outside and around the building, cut across the parking lot, go down the stairs and use a key to open an old metal door that leads into a giant cement room.

(at least there's a "safety light")

There are two washers and two dryers in this room. The washers cost $1.75 and the dryers cost $1.50. They only take quarters and you better believe there is no change machine down there. I try to save as many quarters as I can through regular shopping, but every few months I have to go to the bank to get rolls of quarters and store them in my hall closet like a squirrel.

The good thing about these ridiculously expensive machines is that they are a pretty decent size (thank goodness I only have to worry about laundry for one) and that they are pretty quick. Each machine takes roughly 40 minutes. So at least that’s one plus.

A minor negative is that the washers are far away from the dryers. God forbid I drop a wet sock on the journey to the dryer, because that sucker will be covered in filth.

I usually don't mind doing my laundry here, but since it's getting a lot darker a lot earlier, the giant cement room with the old metal door is getting creepier and creepier. The room is 85% empty. The only objects are the washers, dryers, a big sink, a trashcan and an old plastic chair. There is a locked door in one corner and another locked door labeled "GAS ROOM" against the other wall. There is one more door in the room but this one is open. There is nothing in this tiny cement closet except cobwebs and despair.

(spot the two non-working giant electrical boxes and the GAS ROOM)

(so much empty space)

There are some broken electrical boxes and the occasional non-offensive sharpie messages on the wall. There are also a couple signs that would be perfectly normal if they weren’t written in my landlord’s creepy squiggly writing.

(Or I will murder you)

As it gets darker and darker, earlier and earlier I continually get more paranoid. I can only hold onto the fact that daylight savings time will be here soon enough. It could very well be worse though. I could have to go to a Laundromat.