The fact that my socks and underwear are clean right now really is some sort of miracle; and not just because I have yet to figure out the subtle differences between Tide with color guard and Tide with color-safe bleach. No, fate and the laundry gods must assuredly be on my side, at least this week. Here is the story:
I had high hopes for the new school year as I began the moving process. I would have my own room, a true fantasy that every freshman pines for as they drift to sleep in the residence halls – so close to their ceiling they can literally taste the plaster, which was originally spackled upon the rafters in the 1960's. (The plaster timeline is really a guess on my part; the plaster could have easily been a part the residence hall rooms since the Depression).
My roommates – two individuals you will get to know well this year, and who will be referred to as Skeeter and Striker – had been hard at work getting our place ready to go for the year when I arrived to move in. Everything had gone well; too well in fact. We were due for a move-in incident.
One of the great perks of our new place is our brand new, stackable washer and dryer; if you want to see excitement, all you have to do is mention the word laundry to Skeeter, and he may actually start hyperventilating in sheer elation. So the arrival of our new clothing-cleansing unit was a true red letter day for our house; Skeeter had literally marked the day down on his calendar. When the day came, Skeeter went out and bought a brand new bottle of detergent – for the maiden voyage, like a christening for an expensive sailboat. Is it weird? Sure, but ladies, you never have to worry his clothes will smell like the gym, or that they will be anything but snuggly soft; he likes Downy softener, too.
Anyway, in the excitement of the moment, my roomies decided to move the machine in together, just the two of them. Now, there are a lot of words I can use to describe Skeeter – and I am sure by now, you have a few of your own – but one description that is not applicable is bodybuilder.
As they began to ascend our first set of stairs, tragedy struck: Skeeter lost his flip- flop (slogan: Flip Flops – ideal for moving heavy machinery) and proceeded to lose his grip on the 500-plus pounds machine. Striker did his best to keep the machine from sliding off our staircase, but in the process, it plummeted down three stairs, one at a time, stopping only long enough to crush Skeeter's toes. Skeeter wailed, for with one misstep, he had broken his toe, and threatened the structural integrity of the most beautiful thing he had laid eyes on in months.
He bravely soldiered on – thinking only of the paradise a crisp spin cycle would afford his now sullied clothes – and between the two of them, S&S Moving Co. was able to get the stackable inside our home. After plugging in the washer, Skeeter held his breath as he started the machine, hoping beyond hope that it had not been damaged. As the water began to rain inside the machine, and the dryer began its first cycle, Skeeter wept for joy…or maybe because Striker was pouring rubbing alcohol on his toe and shins.
Whatever the case may be, a crisis was thankfully averted and I am here, sitting in clean clothes, while Skeeter is probably in the washroom, preparing a dust bunny sacrifice to the laundry gods in hopes of continuing his spin cycle induced euphoria.