Laundry. It has been the bane of my existence since I left home for college, and it’s something we all have in common. Well, sort of, as I realize our ways of going about it might differ a bit.
You see, when I lived in the dorms my freshman and sophomore years, I had it pretty sweet. My mom paid for a service where cleaners picked up my dirty clothes every other Monday, returning them by Wednesday washed, dried, folded and sitting on my doorstep in shrink wrap.
This little bit of laundry magic was brought to me by Wolf Laundry and White Star Cleaners for $20 every other week, and the expense was well worth the payoff. I went to class in clean — not Febreze-enhanced — clothes, and I didn’t have to waste time waiting for a washer to free up. It was great.
Last fall I spent the semester in Wales, and this really expanded my washing and drying horizons. Because the exchange rate meant one pound sterling equaled two U.S. dollars, I found creative ways to pinch pennies.
One of these was by going through my entire suitcase of clothes before doing any laundry. Another was by buying the cheapest “washing powder” in the store, and the third was by cleaning them in my bathtub rather than spending the coins to do them in a machine.
I would not recommend this method, however, as my flatmates got a bit perturbed at the drying jeans and t-shirts draped over every available surface. It did make the flat smell pleasant, but my clothes were so stiff when they finally dried that they practically crackled when I walked.
By far my favorite method of obtaining clean clothes is by having my mom do them. This might occur by complimenting her washing skills, pointing out that my clothes are never as clean as when she does them.
This logic follows the same logic as how food always tastes way better when she makes it, or how my car always magically gets better gas mileage when my dad fills up the tank. I call it parental magic, but you can call it voodoo. Whichever you prefer.
This semester I am living off-campus for the first time in a two bedroom, three roommate townhouse. Often, there are clothes other than my own inhabiting the washer and/or dryer. If they are dry, I place them in a basket. If there is no basket, I place them on the responsible party’s bed.
I am as likely a guilty subject as any for this offense, but I do wait until I have practically only pajamas left to wear before I wash. So if you see me on campus in fleece pants printed with ducks, or my high school prom dress, please note that I have not gone crazy, it is simply laundry day.
Share your laundry tips with Catie by e-mailing her at [email protected].