I came into my freshman year never having done a load of laundry. Folding the warm clothes fresh out of the dryer was the closest I had ever come to doing my own laundry. I even thought that was a hassle. Fortunately, my mom had always handled it for me. Though I lacked experience, I considered myself a laundry pro first semester. The most difficult part of doing my laundry was dragging my laundry bag across Presidents’ Park,
from Madison to Harrison. I carried that laundry bag every which way: on my head, on my back, and thrown over my shoulder. Yes, I embarrassed myself with some of these unsuccessful ways. But trying my hardest to put on my best “look of despair” as my roommate and I called it, hoping a preferably cute boy would offer to carry it for me. I’m sure you are hoping I’m going to write, “Try it! It totally works!” It didn’t. Therefore, one thing I learned freshmen year was that even when you are practically toppling over by carrying your huge laundry bag that contains every skirt you tried on that past Friday night, even the best “look of despair” does not help whatsoever. Because boys are, well, boys.
The “look of despair” also does not help while rolling an impossibly heavy vacuum, that looks like it’s straight out of That 70s Show, across the Park from Eisenhower (if you’re in need of anything, check Eisenhower first!). Then again, every time I had to do this, I kept my head down and made sure I didn’t make eye contact with anyone. Another tip for making a successful retro vacuum getaway is to go around 4:30 p.m. since everyone is usually either in class or taking a power nap. The best tip I can offer you, though, is to buy your own vacuum. My roommate and I just never took that step last year, even when my post-workout Cheerios addiction hit a whole new level; it resulted in finding enough Cheerios for a full breakfast under my bed when I moved out at the end of second semester. The first thing we bought this semester was a cute magenta vacuum (yes girls, a vacuum can have style). Now I vacuum all the time because it’s very necessary when you have an extreme hair shedding problem, like me. No one appreciates finding ten long pieces of red hair attached to their coat, so now I can semi keep that under control with my brand-new vacuum.
One day second semester, after lugging the vacuum to and from my third-floor dorm, I decided doing my laundry was a must; I guess I was feeling productive in the cleaning department. Every laundry room at Mason has a few broken washers and dryers, especially in Presidents’ Park; I failed to notice that the washer I usually avoided was the one I was piling my weeks’ worth of clothes into. When the timer was up, I peered in to find that my clothes were sitting in a washer full of water. Borderline in tears, I decided my best bet was to ring them all out and transfer them to a different washer across the room. I’m
sure you can imagine how thrilled I was to have to spend thirty more minutes hanging out in the laundry room. As a sophomore, you have no idea how amazing the privilege is to be able to take the elevator back up to your room while you wait, instead of having to hike back to your Park dorm.
I ended up pretty much flooding the entire laundry room during my transfer. Luckily no one witnessed this ordeal, but as I sat there for a half an hour, I watched people come in and out amazed at the amount of water covering the floors and lids of washers. A few girls acted like they were on the sinking Titanic, yelling, “OH MY GOD! How did this happen?! I might drown in here!” Sorry girls, Leo’s freshman lookalike was not making an appearance anytime soon. Sitting in my frustration, I laughed to myself and texted everyone I knew about the ridiculous situation.
While getting your own washer and dryer is not an option, at least getting your own vacuum is. Freshmen year might be a hassle at points, but that’s what makes it so enjoyable in the end. I’m sure you’ll end up like me with more than a few outrageous stories to tell and a sigh of relief when you experience the perks of being an upperclassman.