I've Made Mistakes In Life
...but I don't think I made one today in what I did, and I don't regret it and I'm neither going to own up to it or apologize for it.
I live in the basement of a four-flat (including mine) apartment building. We share the use of the utilities, including a pay-as-you-go washer and dryer. I learned from my mom how to properly load and unload these machines, and I am proud of this homemaking skill. But the ladies on the first and second levels both have TERRIBLE habits when it comes to using them. We have one who literally SHOVES everything into the machine, on TOP of the agitator, instead of a well=balanced load. I swear she is going to break it off one day and we'll be out of luck.
Anyway, today is Saturday. I had to get up early (about 4:00 AM) because my Peapod driver was expected between 6:00 and 8:00, and I wanted to be dressed and ready for him. I decided to get my laundry started while I waited. No one else was up anyway.
I went downstairs - and nearly had an attack. There was the basket belonging to the agitator-abuser, with a full rug in it. But where were her clothes? The machine was open and empty. I checked the dryer - and it was stuffed with damp to wet clothes, top to bottom. That machine needs BREATHING room to dry things! It was obvious she had done it last night and didn't finish it. Not only that, but she didn't clean the filter, either. I sighed, filled up my first of two washloads, took out her wet clothes and put them on top of the dryer. I started my load, went upstairs - and the Peapod driver had arrived. I helped him unload the order, signed, and he left again.
To make a long story short, I finished both grocery unloading and laundry chores - and there still wasn't stirring upstairs. I brought up my last load, leaving her
clothes on the washer, and went upstairs. A half-hour went by, and I was just sitting down to a late breakfast, when I heard, "Who the HELL took my clothes out of the machine?" Her scream came through the floor. Then I heard her banging around angrily.
I'm sorry, my dear, but that's not your private machine. I'm not going to admit to what I did - or apologize for it.
After all, it WAS Saturday morning - and everyone for himself or herself.
I live in the basement of a four-flat (including mine) apartment building. We share the use of the utilities, including a pay-as-you-go washer and dryer. I learned from my mom how to properly load and unload these machines, and I am proud of this homemaking skill. But the ladies on the first and second levels both have TERRIBLE habits when it comes to using them. We have one who literally SHOVES everything into the machine, on TOP of the agitator, instead of a well=balanced load. I swear she is going to break it off one day and we'll be out of luck.
Anyway, today is Saturday. I had to get up early (about 4:00 AM) because my Peapod driver was expected between 6:00 and 8:00, and I wanted to be dressed and ready for him. I decided to get my laundry started while I waited. No one else was up anyway.
I went downstairs - and nearly had an attack. There was the basket belonging to the agitator-abuser, with a full rug in it. But where were her clothes? The machine was open and empty. I checked the dryer - and it was stuffed with damp to wet clothes, top to bottom. That machine needs BREATHING room to dry things! It was obvious she had done it last night and didn't finish it. Not only that, but she didn't clean the filter, either. I sighed, filled up my first of two washloads, took out her wet clothes and put them on top of the dryer. I started my load, went upstairs - and the Peapod driver had arrived. I helped him unload the order, signed, and he left again.
To make a long story short, I finished both grocery unloading and laundry chores - and there still wasn't stirring upstairs. I brought up my last load, leaving her
clothes on the washer, and went upstairs. A half-hour went by, and I was just sitting down to a late breakfast, when I heard, "Who the HELL took my clothes out of the machine?" Her scream came through the floor. Then I heard her banging around angrily.
I'm sorry, my dear, but that's not your private machine. I'm not going to admit to what I did - or apologize for it.
After all, it WAS Saturday morning - and everyone for himself or herself.
61-69, F
