I woke up yesterday morning, fully motivated to finally work my way through the humongous pile of laundry stashed into my closet. Actually, it had gotten to the point of not being able to open my closet door, because of all those dirty socks.
After separating the whites from the darks, spelling laundry powder all over our kitchen floor and accidentally hitting my little toe against the closet door (ouch), it was laundry time. Or so I thought, at least.
I walked to my box filled with quarters and realized there were no quarters. Determined as ever, I walked from door to door asking my neighbors if anyone could change some change and help me fill that quarter box. Seven neighbors,
40 minutes and some awful smelling Indian food later, I had gathered two quarters. Not bad. But completely insufficient since I needed at least eight to even get started. Our manager actually pulled me into his apartment and started telling me about his favorite dive bar, which apparently played a major role in meeting all the women necessary for his crazy 1970’s lifestyle. Yuck. Our neighbor Crystal tried to sell me on a gift basket filled with energy bars. And the girls next door didn’t even come to the door, but some guy did. And I don’t think he believed that I was looking for quarters. Awkward.
Anyway, I went to the bank and got a couple rolls of quarters. Yet, I still haven’t done my laundry. Maybe next weekend.