DON'T LEAVE YOUR LAUNDRY IN THE WASHER
"You did it again."
"Did what?"
"Left your laundry in the washer."
"No, I didn’t."
"Yes you did, Hayley. You’re my best friend, I know your entire wardrobe by now. Don’t lie to me."
"Okay, I did, but I’ve been out all day!"
"Yeah, well you shouldn’t have done your laundry today if you knew you were going to be out."
"I’m just out so much that I don’t have time to stick around and wait for my laundry to finish."
"You don’t stay in your room for longer than an hour? That’s all the time you need."
"God Laurel, can you just give it a rest? Chill out. It’s not that big of a deal."
"Not that big of a deal? Are you kidding me? Wednesdays are my laundry days. If I don’t get my laundry done on Wednesday, then my entire schedule is thrown off. You know how I get when my things are dirty. Plus, you can’t just leave your laundry in the washer. Won’t it get all gross and mildewy if you let it sit in there too long?"
"I don’t think so; I don’t know."
"Well you should check up on that, unless you don’t have time to do that either."
"I don’t appreciate your sarcasm."
"I don’t appreciate your laundry being left in the washer."
"Ugh!"
Hayley stormed off and slammed the door to our dorm in my face. She can get pretty fired up when her buttons are pressed. I’m an excellent button-presser. She always has to be right, even when she’s completely wrong. It gets annoying always letting her have her way, so sometimes I try to challenge her, but it never goes over well.
She looked kind of comical with her face all red and her hands flying everywhere. It’s funny how such a tiny little body can contain so much anger. I actually kind of like getting her mad. It gives me something to do. I just like seeing other people’s emotions get the best of them. I’d never let mine control me like that. I’m strong enough to keep everything all locked up inside, except for those few moments when I’m not, but what’s a few moments compared to a lifetime of letting my emotions control me?
I’m a bit sweaty from that fight. I haven’t yelled at someone that much since my old roommate, Carrie, left her bananas in the fridge. I didn’t appreciate my leftover chicken sandwich tasting like banana. Bananas repulse me. I almost threw up when I ate it. I took care of Carrie though; she’s no longer a problem. I’ve got a new roommate now. She doesn’t like bananas. I made sure of that before I agreed to live with her. I didn’t want to have to get rid of her, too.
I sat down on the steps outside of the front door of my dorm, staring at my feet. Out of the corner of my eye, I saw a swarm of ants gathered around a half-eaten apple. Their little brown bodies were climbing all over each other. They didn’t even care that they were being stepped on. Back when I was around ten or eleven, we used to get huge swarms of ants near the edge of our garage. They used to get me so mad; I don’t know why. I guess I just thought they were ugly to look at. I got this bright idea one day to get out my water gun and start shooting them with it. At first, I didn’t realize that they couldn’t swim, but when I did realize, I didn’t stop. I kind of liked drowning them. I watched them squirm until they were still. They deserved it for being an eyesore.
I eventually got bored of watching the ants and made my way back to my room. I was supposed to see my therapist, but after that fight I wasn't really in the mood to talk about my "feelings". My therapist would ask me about it and I’d have to tell him everything and he’d take it all the wrong way. I already know what he’d tell me. He’d say that I need to forgive Hayley and give her a second chance. There’s no way in hell I’d do that; I don’t believe in second chances. If you mess up once, that’s enough for me. I mean, obviously I forgive people who make little mistakes because we all do, but leaving laundry in the washer for an entire day? That’s unforgivable.
Either way, I wasn't really in the mood to go anywhere. I should have done some homework, but all I kept thinking about was how my roommate, Madison, left her dried out contacts on her dresser the other day. They’re still there, you know. Every time I pass by her dresser, I can’t help but look at them. Why must she do this? Her trash can is probably three feet away, yet she’s too lazy to get up and throw them in it. It disgusts me. There are probably billions of germs on them. I’d throw them out myself, but I can’t touch them (not even with a tissue) without feeling like I’ve got to wash my hands over and over again.
Madison wasn’t in the room when I opened the door. Thank god. I probably would have snapped on her about the whole contact situation. Besides, I needed some alone time to cool down. I couldn't let Hayley get under my skin like that again. I didn't want to end up hurting her by accident. I decided to watch a little mindless TV to clear my head.
After about two and a half hours of trying to watch Gossip Girl, my mind kept wandering and I finally gave up. I just kept thinking about the little brown stain that was on Hayley’s dress earlier today. I hope she threw it right into the washer. It was one of my favorite dresses of hers— a red sparkly number— and I was hoping to borrow it for the next school dance, except I would never wear it with a stain on it; I can’t stand dirty clothes.
I got up off of my bed, making sure to smooth out all of the wrinkles from my bedspread, then walked over to my desk and sat down. I stared at my to-do list with a frown on my face.
To Do:
-Write a two page paper for biology on evolution
-Vacuum and dust the room
-Paint nails
-Wash makeup brushes
-Do laundry
It annoyed me to no end that I couldn’t check "Do laundry" off of my list, so I decided to go downstairs and see if Hayley was done yet. I’d given her ample time to finish up, so I was sure she was probably done by now. Besides, it was starting to bother me that my dirty clothes had gone unwashed for so long.
I grabbed my keys and headed down to the basement. I didn’t bring down my dirty clothes because I wanted to make sure that a washer was open before I touched my laundry. I didn’t want to have to wash my hands again if I didn’t have to. As soon as I set foot into the laundry room, I knew that something was wrong. Usually, when the washers are empty, the lids are left open. Except they weren’t. The lids were closed.
"Don’t freak out," I told myself. Someone else probably just put a load in while I was watching TV. I could feel the anger bubbling up inside of me as I reached my shaky hand out and opened the lid. The same white lace shirt and cranberry-colored sweater that I saw this morning was staring at me from the top of the pile. Hayley never finished her laundry.
"Hayley!" I screamed. Not a minute later, I heard the distinct sound of her boot- clad feet trampling down the stairs.
"What do you want, Laurel?" she asked.
There was no answer.
I felt oddly calm as I walked out of the laundry room a half hour later. It was as if I had suddenly transformed into an entirely different person. A slow smile crept its way onto my face as I took the stairs two at a time, and it stayed there for the rest of the night. As soon as I walked back into my room, I checked "Do laundry" off of my list even though there was still a pile of dirty clothes left in a heap in the corner of my room. It was so satisfying to watch the ink from my pen slide across the page.
•••
Jeanie Krass, a sophomore biology major, walked down the stairs to the basement laundry room carrying a bag full of dirty clothes that was almost bigger than her. She had forgotten to do her laundry during the day, and it was only as she looked out her window at the darkness outside that she remembered. She was desperately hoping that a washer would be open because if they were all full, she’d have to wear a dirty uniform to work tomorrow. A slight frown fell upon her face as she reached the bottom of the stairs and came across a smear of red on the carpet. Stepping over the stain, she poked her head around the corner, hoping no one was there. Jeanie didn’t see anyone and proceeded to walk towards the washers in the back. A putrid smell hit her nose and she almost choked on the air.
"Did some kind of animal die down here?" she asked herself. Trying as best as she could to ignore the smell, Jeanie opened the lid of the only washer that wasn’t currently running. Her scream could be heard from the fourth floor of the dorm. A few students came running at the sound, only to find Jeanie passed out on the floor. They peered inside of the washer to see what had caused Jeanie to faint. Shoved inside was a tiny girl wearing a sparkly red dress that matched the color of the blood that she was soaking in.
Deanna Schmidt is a Junior majoring in English with a minor in Psychology. She is a self-proclaimed introvert who enjoys dancing, chocolate peanut butter ice cream, and experimenting with makeup.
