Because I am 1) lazy and 2) somewhat busy and 3) really lazy, I decided that I don't want to do my own laundry anymore. Especially because "clothes mountain" was starting to look like "clothes mountain: the ride" with little cockroaches riding in socks down the side with their 6 legs raised in the air. weeee!
So I decided to take it to the cleaners. Now I really truly hate takin my clothes to the cleaners. I have a fear that 1) my clothes will be ruined, 2) my dirty laundry (read: my poopie-stained panties) will be photographed and put on the internet (poop two days in a row people, this is content!) and/or 3) my clothes will all mysteriously "vanish" (read: will be sold on the clothing black market known as "the laundro-person's closet"). But this week clothes mountain was just too daunting and, as I said before, I was just too lazy.
The bag of clothing? Well yes, it was heavy. But I didn't realize HOW heavy because my wonderful awesome boyfriend carried it to the cleaners for me. I guess $30 does seem like a lot to pay for laundry... but eh. Who cares. Just relax and let them do their job. This is, after all, what they DO FOR A LIVING (that is in upper case because it's foreshadowing).
So this morning I go to pick up my freshly cleaned laundry with a smile on my face and a spring in my step and no socks or underwear on. I bound up the steps, and push open the door, the fresh scent of Tide mixed with pride tingled my nostrils. "Good morning! Here to pick up!!" I handed the wrinkled old woman by the dryer my ticket.
Dum deee dum. What a lovely morning! Laa dee dooo.
"OH THIS IS YOU!!!??! TOO MUCH LAUNDRY! YOU SHOULDN'T WAIT SO LONG TO DO YOUR LAUNDRY! TERRIBLE! TERRIBLE!!! ARE THESE ALL YOUR CLOTHES!?!?"
Wha... but... i thought... but i was super bus... but...
The old wrinkled woman berated me for having TOO MUCH LAUNDRY.
YOU ARE A LAUNDROMAT. IS THERE SUCH A THING AS TOO MUCH LAUNDRY!?!?
Well I didn't think so but apparently there is.
I was so embarrassed you guys! I paid her and even tipped her cuz I felt bad and I was SO EMBARRASSED and felt like such a slob. I looked at all the other teeny tiny miniscule bags of laundry awaiting pick up. Teeny weeny bags with teeny weeny clothes with no poopie stains on the panties (but honestly, it's not real poop, it's from my clothing line). Sigh.
I walked out with my HUGE ENORMOUS ELEPHANTITOUS BAG OF LAUNDRY and teeny tiny mouse tears in my eyes.
No not really but damn, what the hell??
Oh and to top it off, I'm telling the story to my boyfriend (he used to use the same place) and he's all, "that's really weird! she never said a word to me. all smiles!"
Seriously though you guys. What the hell??