Dirty Days: Laundry in NYC

So you're probably going to find this blog post a little discussing, or possibly repulsive based on your own cleaning habits. But maybe... Just maybe... You can relate?

I hate doing laundry. Always have, always will. This chore is the biggest time suck I can think of and it's typically a solitary task, meaning us naturally extroverted creatures feel as though we must be missing out on something better than our current state of sad affairs.

But that’s not even the worse part! No, the most unfortunate thing about washing your clothes is that the feeling of having "done" your laundry last no more than 12 hours. As soon as the day is done, another freaking shirt is back in the hamper!

Bah! It’s just bad.

And the thing is, this task actually gets even less enjoyable in the city. I simply CANNOT carry that bag of clothes down two flights of stairs and up two city blocks without muttering a curse word.

So I wait to do my laundry.
And then, I wait a little more…
The pile gets a bit out of control,
and I hide the basket behind the closet door.
Some clothes seem to be missing.
I contemplate doing a crucial load.
Oh but then there’s a rainstorm.
So I can’t walk my clothes up the road!
Well, I’ll just try for the weekend.
Oh but I’m out of town!
How unfortunate for me.
Though you wouldn’t see my frown…

And then suddenly out of nowhere, I’ll realize the last time I did my laundry was…


I know, I know… I shouldn’t have enough clothes to last me three months. BUT I DO! So I’m sticking to my ways suckers! It just comes down to this: You can take the girl out of college, but you can’t take the college out of the girl.

Please though, for the love of plastic hangers, if you have a solution to clothing storage space in the city - LET ME KNOW.

Always counting quarters and waiting.

Can you see my bed? It's there... somewhere. Stop it. Don't make that face at me. I'm sure you too have an oddity that is nose-wrinkleable. Besides... I only repeat wear the jeans.