I'm a centaur, and other laundry day moments

Doing laundry in college can be a scary thing. The line of washers groaning and moaning sounds like some big monster is going to eat me, and the flashing sign with the ID card swipe-y thing is just one giant mockery that no dryers are available ever, unless you decide to do your laundry at 1:00 in the morning.

Excited to be independent or delirious from caffeine and cake?

The simplicity of laundry day is one of the major things I miss about home. That and having a mini dance party without getting strange looks. At home, you don't have to drag your laundry basket up and down stairs, no one throws pairs of boxers into your load, and for the love of all things shiny, if you are a minute late to pick up your clean clothes, people don't shove it onto the bench where gross things congregate.

So this week, I decided to volunteer my roommate to brave the dangers of the laundry room. Maybe we were already hyped up from sugar, or sleep deprived, or aliens from the planet Zork, but whatever it is, during those last 4 minutes of the washing cycle (I now know to get there early so people don't snatch my leopard print pants and sparkly bras) I decided to traipse about the room, doing the charleston, and Maria was convinced that I was impersonating a centaur. When is the last time you've seen a centaur do swing dance moves, I ask you?

By the time I'd moved my clothes to their respective drying cycle, we had embarrassed ourselves enough to discover two people were also doing their laundry, cleverly hidden behind a section of the wall so that we couldn't see who exactly we were making fools of ourselves in front of. But somehow doing the sexy "come hither" look on top of a communal washing machine seems a bit less justifiable when uperclassmen are wondering why the hell freshmen were let into West halls this year. And I suppose I can understand why. I think even Maria, who has grown immune to my insane ideas and eccentricities, was a little wary after the millionth centaur shot.

She puts up with a lot, my roommate

Next time, I'll just read a book or something while I'm waiting for my laundry.

Namaste.

P.S. For the entire time I've had this blog, no one thought to inform me that I was spelling "necessities" wrong? Oh the life of an English major...