Trials and Tribulations of A Demon London Washing Machine

Laundry is a generally easy concept. Doing laundry, although tedious is not hard. You put in your clothes, you put in the detergent, you set your cycle.

If only it were that easy.

So, I did my usual lack of sorting, shoved all of my clothes in my *laundry basket (I’m actually using my suitcase because I didn’t want to pay for a laundry basket), got on the elevator and went into the spooky basement where the washing machines are located.

First of all, I got off the elevator and it took me a good five minutes to find the washers, even though they were right around the corner, but I mean come on people! Could you have spared just one sign with an arrow for an American ditz please? Anyway, I get into the laundry room and realize that I need to get a laundry card. Okay, cool, I wasn’t expecting a freebie or anything. But I go to buy a laundry card with my credit card.

They don’t take f*cking credit cards.


Well, I’m still walking around with my giant damn suitcase full of laundry.

Back up the elevator I go. This is now taking way longer than I wanted. I look in my safe for some cash to buy the card.

OOPS. I spent all of my cash. Damn it.

Damn it, damn it, damn it.

So, I put on my coat and head for the nearest currency exchange. 15 minutes and a giant rip-off later, I am heading back upstairs to grab my laundry. Back down to the basement. I buy the stupid f*cking bullish*t card. I put my dirty clothes in the washing machine. I put in the damn soap.

Then, the stupid laundry card is impossible. I scan it, it doesn’t read. I scan again, it charges me twice. At this point, I was about ready to cause physical damage to this dumb machine. After about 20 minutes of cursing out the washer, I finally got the dumb thing to work.

I’m not a moron, but I swear, that washer made me feel inferior as a human being. Hey, I guess I learned something from it all: I still came out on top. I have clean clothes and a story to tell. #MazWins


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