Psycho Roomie, Part XI: The Laundry

Just so we're clear on this, I had no idea when I started this that I'd end up with eleven parts thus far. But I figured I've got ya'll hooked, and I've come this far, so it's not like I can stop until I tell you about moving out.

Suzi made every day life things complicated. Laundry, for instance. I've never seen someone wind up with so much laundry. I've also never known anyone else to drag it on for eternity. Seriously.

My first two years at school, I has to use the laundry rooms provided by the apartment complex that I lived in. The machines were coin-operated. I learned extremely fast that you don't do laundry on the weekends if you expect to get it done in a timely fashion. After my first week of laundry, I then picked a day during the middle of the week to do my laundry and always had my pick of washers and dryers. And I think only once in that time frame did I walk into the laundry room to find that someone had removed my laundry so they could do theirs. It gave me the creeps to think someone else had touched my laundry, and almost did it over. But I probably didn't have enough quarters.



One of the two perks of living with Suzi was that our apartment had a washer and dryer in it. (In case you were wondering, the other perk was having my very own room). When it was originally three of us living there, I figured we'd all just wind up picking a day to our laundry and that would be our "day". I could typically get mine done in a couple hours if I was at home and stayed on top of it.

It was unfortunate when I learned that would never happen. Even when it was down to just me and Suzi. I found it very hard to get to do my laundry. Why, you might ask?

Because this chick never stopped doing laundry. Seriously.

She would put a load in the wash, forget about it for a couple days, then stick it in the dryer and promptly forget about for a few days. However, every day she'd remember it, and would turn on the dryer again and would promptly forget about it. I shit you not, she'd "dry" dry clothes half a dozen times before she would finally take them out to fold them. Only to repeat this cycle with the next set of clothes she would put in it.

I would even ask her in person or leave her a note on the white board in the kitchen regarding the laundry. Something polite like, "Suzi, I'd like to do my laundry on Wednesday. I'm running out of unmentionables." Many times she'd at least finish what she had already started, and I'd squeeze in for a two or three hours and do my laundry on the day I requested.

Every week we went through this. Every week.

There were a few occasions that I knew she'd be heading out of town, and she wouldn't finish her laundry. So I would remind her every day to please finish so I that I could do my laundry. She would get all rude on me and complain about busy she was and she would do it when she had time.

I'm going to digress for a minute here and say that she was no busier than myself. I worked a minimum of 30 hours a week, I had 5 or 6 classes - all of them lab classes, I had study groups, I had friends that wanted to hang out, and I had family to visit, too. She worked barely 20 hours a week, had 4 classes, and if she wasn't hanging out with her friends, she was talking with them on the fucking phone. I was lucky to see my friends on a social visit, it was usually at a study session. Now, I will admit some of her classes were tougher than mine, being that she was Pre-Vet. However, if she had put as much effort into actual studying as she did on the phone, she might have actually gotten in to vet school. (insert evil laugh here)

Back on topic. (ahem) Sorry.

Now, even though I would ask her several times to please finish her laundry (I always said please and everything because I didn't want her to beat me with a wet sock in my sleep), several times it didn't happen. She'd leave for the weekend, laundry still unfinished. Sometimes she'd be walking out the door and say, "Oh and I didn't have time to finish my laundry, so you'll just have to wait." The first time I heard that, I said out loud as the door shut behind her, "Oh fuck that shit." I immediately turned around, pulled her (5x) dry clothes out of the dryer and dropped them on her bed. I then moved her wet clothes out of the washer onto the hall floor. Now, I hate having to touch other people's laundry. So I had to, um, put socks on my hands to touch her clothes. Shut up. My mom insisted that I drop the wet clothes on her pillow to teach her a lesson. I almost did. I actually walked to her pillow with clothes in two and then I had an image of her getting me back somehow. Like with poison or suffocating me with her underwear. Either way, it wasn't pretty and I didn't want to die. So I didn't do it. I actually regret not doing that.

I would get my laundry done and put her wet clothes back in the washer. Now, unless she was a complete idiot (which most times I did think that), she had to know I moved her clothes to do mine. She never said anything. And each time she left for the weekend, we went through this.

I must also tell you something else. It shocked the shit right out of me when I found this out, because I couldn't figure anyone who actually did laundry didn't know this.

She'd never heard of the "FLUFF CYCLE". So, when she kept turning on the dryer every day because she'd suddenly remember she had clothes in there, she would turn it on the HEAT CYCLE for another hour. No wonder the PG&E bill was high. Each load she "dried" at least three times. When I said something to her, she said she'd never heard of a fluff cycle. She'd been at that apartment for 3 or 4 years by this time and had never see the "Fluff" mode on the dial. Nor had her super-brilliant mother (gag) ever taught her daughter about the fluff cycle.

And one other thing she didn't know how to do: iron. She didn't know how to use an iron, how to handle one, anything. I may not be the world's greatest when it comes to ironing, but I can do it. I hate it, but I can do it.

Seriously, did her parents teach her anything?? I mean, besides how to be a stupid bitch?