Hello to all readers. I am trying to get back in the saddle again on blogging. Sorry for the lapse in hilarity.
Anyhow, you may not know that only a year ago AppleHubs was a mere graduate student and we were living in some University family housing. It really was a lovely place to call home–we had two bedrooms, a pretty courtyard to stare at, and the dulcet tones of hundreds of hippie children frolicking.
However, along with cheap subsidized living comes some small injustices in the life of a grownup. To me the worst was the lack of three key appliances from our home: a dishwasher and a washer/dryer. Now it was Applehubs that did all the dishes, so he was the one who felt the pain on that. However, as you can probably tell from this blog, I have a lot of clothes. So the laundry piles up. It was definitely not my favorite moment of the week when I would heave all the laundry down to the community laundry room. One of two things would happen. All the machines would be full, or you would have a chance to load in. If the machines are full, you have the choice–do I leave my stuff down here under this scratched table, or heave it back? I feel like these community laundry rooms are like an untapped psychological experiment waiting to happen. Watching other people in there, seeing the way they do their laundry, seeing how much laundry, what their clothes are, and lastly their obnoxious/cutthroat/lazy/rude/disrespectful way they treat others laundry and others in the laundry room. My absolute MOST HATED thing was when people would take my clothes out of my machine and make a pile. DON’T F-ING TOUCH MY STUFF. EW. Your hands probably just tossed your naked hippie child into the air or fed him a cube of cheese. I do not want that hand on my delicates there buddy. Once I caught someone taking my stuff out and the look I gave him could have frozen time like the Frozen Monkey Wheel Ben pushed on LOST (that will be another post).
You can imagine my pure delight when we were able to join civilization and grownups everywhere when we moved north to this city and our apartment had a dishwasher AND a laundry closet. Oh the joy. I swear the sound of that machine filling and spinning, the liberating act of tossing clothes in to be washed ANYTIME I want, oh its one of the simple pleasures in life. The other day I washed a Longchamp bag on delicate on its OWN just cause I could make it look better. I mean, the LUXURY of that. It even makes me want to fold the stuff. Pure happiness, laundry-in-your-apartment is.
You might think the life of the clothes in my life couldn’t get better, but it does. No longer do my dry cleaning items have to wait for months until I get my life together to get it to the nearest shady Kleaners location. No no, not my clothes. My clothes have Laundry Locker. In my swanky building, these amazing people will pick up my clothes in a bag, then return them hanging and clean the NEXT day. This may sound like I am paid by the company but I swear I am not. Its literally like little laundry elves take my stuff and make it new in 24 hours. It looks so good! And huge bonus points for putting the BR weird button cuff links in a ziploc baggie! Dream.
So what have we learned?
Its the simple things that make me happy.
My life has not been that exciting lately.
