Witz DOESN'T Pick: (You) Doing (My) Laundry

When I was little and didn't show enough appreciation for my Mom's household efforts, she would say to me, "Who do you think cleans up your room and does your laundry-- fairies??" At the time, I knew it was rhetorical (although I was clearly being given mixed messages-- I mean, on one hand, the Tooth Fairy dropped off money under my pillow, but apparently it was totally unreasonable to assume that her cohorts would also clean my room and do my laundry...), but after some recent events, I'm not so sure.

Last week, I put a load of laundry in the communal apartment washer and went back upstairs to watch something really really life enhancing, like "So You Think You Can Dance" (dance...dance...dance...). After about an hour, I went back downstairs only to find that my clothes were gone. Like GONE. At first I thought maybe I was crazy. The laundry room looks and feels a lot like a mental hospital, and the overhead lights, patterns on the walls, shaking of machines and noise vibrations, always make me feel like I just licked a small family of toads. Anyway, I started searching through all the washers. Empty, empty, empty, empty (there are more than 4, but you get the idea). So my initial thought is, "Somebody stole all my clothes!" followed immediately by, "Who would want my Nintendo Themed boxers?" followed conclusively by, "Everyone!"

I began to freak out, which is easy to do when you're one padded wall away from a psychiatric institution. I went back to the elevator and waited for it to arrive, pretty sure that I was gonna get stabbed at any moment by whoever stole my stuff. The elevator opened and thankfully, it was empty (I have had two poor elevator moments in that basement. The first time, I went to get on the elevator and bumped my head squarely into the stomach of the tallest man I've ever seen, which led to an awkward exchange, and the second time, I was ON the elevator late at night, when the doors opened to reveal a small Japanese girl staring right at me that actually made me yelp-- thanks Battle Royale).

Back up in my room, I decided to give a few long shots a chance.

"Hey, Witz Gal, when you said something before and I couldn't hear you and then we decided not to move an inch to make that conversation a reality...did you happen to say, 'I put your clothes in the dryer?'"


"Nope."


"Damn, well, do you remember ME going downstairs and saying I put things in the dryer even though I don't remember doing it?"


"Nope."

"Damn. Didn't think so."


So I went back downstairs. I get back down there and take another look. Still nothing. The only washer going is one that is locked and one dryer going with 27 minutes to go. I figure at this point one of three things happened: either someone stole my clothes and they're gone forever, someone took all of their laundry out and accidentally included my washer with their stuff, meaning it's gone forever because nobody is gonna email the building saying they did that, or someone inexplicably and hugely against social folkways, put my laundry in the dryer.


Another important fact is that every other time I have ever done laundry, I have things that need to be dried, and things that CANNOT be dried. If these items are dried, they shrink and don't fit, and then I have to explain to Witz Gal why I can't fit into my clothes. I don't know how familiar you all are with that line of conversation, but let me tell you that after one or two uses, the explanation that, "My clothes must have shrunk," no longer plays well. "Uh-huh, I'm suuuure it did-- it can't possibly have anything to do with that incredibly delicious looking, 2/3 of a pound burger and fries you got at The Counter the other day...(flagrant product-placement)." This ONE TIME, however, was the only time I have ever washed ONLY items that could be dried (in preparation for my flight the next day).


So, with very few hopes and even fewer clean boxers, I opened the dryer and waited as everything rolled to a halt. You know how if you are waiting for a car to meet you or pick you up, you always think you see the car, but it's never actually it, and you eventually give up and then the car comes right along? Well, I had completely given up on the fact that the ONE dryer in use had MY clothes in it. But when I opened that door, there they were. All my clothes. Dryin'...I had no idea how long they'd been in there, but there they were. Which brings me to my point-- WHO THE HELL TAKES SOMEONE ELSE'S CLOTHES AND PUTS THEM IN THE DRYER??? WHO DOES THAT. YOU CAN'T DO THAT! That's MY stuff. Your stuff is your stuff, that's why they call it YOUR STUFF. But MY stuff is MINE. That's why-- well you get it. But SOMEONE doesn't! Because I have to assume that someone thought they were doing me a favor-- a small mid-week mitzvah, that backfired and sent me into a stressful tailspin. I just can't understand who would think it was a cool move. MAYBE you put my stuff IN the dryer but don't turn it on. MAYBE. Look at me, I'm all worked up again. All I knew was that if I found someone else down there that might have moved my clothes, I was gonna give them a good talking to, probably with some sarcasm and most definitely with some condescending phrases and contorted facial expressions of shock and disbelief.


As I went back to the elevator, the doors opened and I stood face to face with a small, slightly older Indian woman. We caught each other's eyes for a minute, and I smiled, not able to bring myself to ask if she had moved my clothes. She smiled a smile that either said, "You're welcome," or, "how you like dem apples?" it was unclear. I got onto the elevator and headed back up with my very dry clothes. I thought back to when I was little and when my Mom asked who I thought did my laundry-- fairies? If I'd known then what I know now, I would have replied, "No, not fairies. A small, middle-aged Indian woman." I bet my Mom would have found that disturbingly specific.



Clothes Laundering Is Not A Crime,
Witz