Here There Be Demons
I finally did laundry yesterday. I'd tell you how long it's been since the last time I did it, but I'm not that stupid-- my mother reads this blog. In my defense, there were several reasons it took me as long as it did. Some of them are more reasonable than others (Do you have any idea how hard it is to get enough quarters when the campus ATM only gives $20s and the only thing you buy regularly is stamps?), but because this is Bird Calls, I'm only going to tell you the crazy one: the laundry room is scary. It's down in the dank, dark, and depressing basement only accessible by an old, sloooow elevator and through a poorly lit hallway with vending machines that sound like a Ghostbusters' sound effect. Then-- and this is the worst part-- the other girls also doing their laundry are downright predatory. If I survive the elevator, crawl past the vending machines, and finally make it to the washers, one look from any other occupant in the room and I swear their eyes glow red and the Supernatural soundtrack starts to play. And don't even get me started on the sock-eating dryers! All ye who dare to enter Wellesley laundry rooms, here ye be warned!Â
