I DID MY LAUNDRY.

First time ever.

I happily linked arms with Angela (also a no-brainer at laundry science) and together we dragged our baskets down to the laundrette.

In the basement. Amongst the boilers, bicycles (?), rubbish and whatnot.

Some inconsiderate idiots had left their already washed and wet clothes in the washing machines, taking up precious washing machine space.

We got irritated, so it was time to take some action. Deciding to shift the wet garments over to the one of the dryers so we could put our own stuff in, we had to act fast in case they came back.

Angela grabbed an armful of wet fabric. So did I, but I realised something.

“Angela, you bitch! You left me to carry all the underwear!”

I was holding someone’s dripping wet crumpled white/grey/skin-colored panties.

In her haste, Angela dropped a black bra on the floor.

In my haste, I stepped on it.

You deserve it for leaving your stuff in the machine even though its done. Don’t mess with us.

We swiped our cards, pushed our underwear and jeans into the gaping mouths of the washing machines and pressed COLORS.

And waited.

And it came out fine, to my relief!

No colors had miraculously transformed into others.

I popped them all into the dryer next.

When they were done, I pulled them out and started folding them.

They had shrunk.

My gray spaghetti straps now reaches above my navel and has turned into a midriff.

My yellow tank top which was supposed to be a long top to begin with now ends at normal tshirt level.