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Dear Fellow Laundry Room Users

Please have some patience. If it's not bad enough that I am allergic to the CRAP you put in the washers/dryers (disgusting scented biological laundry soap as well as a freakin' dog bed full of hairs) that inevitably ends up on my clothes, now you cannot wait a mere 5 minutes while I wrangle my toddler before coming to get my single small load of wet clothes. I know it was less than 5 minutes because I had set a timer when I put the washing on (something you could probably get used to doing as well). I'm not really sure why you insist on having to use all three washers at one time, but that's neither here nor there.

You may have not noticed while going through my washed underwear that it was a DELICATE cycle. Why you would take it upon yourself to put someone else's underwear in the dryer is beyond me. Perhaps you needed me to hurry so that you could also use all three dryers at once and then leave your washing in there for the rest of the day like you generally do. I pulled my things out of the dryer, hopefully in time before anything was damaged. I hope you intend to pay for anything that has been ruined.

Your loving neighbour.

>>  Posted by satakieli at 5:00 PM |   |  send email  | 

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I am a 24 year old British stay at home mother to a two year old boy. Married to a U.S. soldier and currently living in Germany.

I have seen the Vatican from the very top of St Peter's Basilica, the mud in the World War I trenches outside Ypres. I have walked through Montmartre side streets bustling with people in the evening, gotten lost in the streets of Greenwich Village NYC, run through cornfields on the Welsh border and sat outside with a cup of tea watching fireflies in the fields of the outer Chicago suburbs.

I have held the hands of others through addiction, fear, suicide, despair and come out the other side. I have left everything behind to begin anew.
I have fought mental illness and walked through snow in the mountains of the lake district, England. I have explored the morgue in the bowels of an abandoned hospital on a summer evening, climbed to the top of scaffolding on the outside of a five floor warehouse to look at the city lights of Nottingham at night and I have watched the sun setting on the Texas horizon.

I have held my son's tiny hand through the plastic window on an isolette in the NICU ward. Walked, speaking only in whispers, through the catacombs beneath the ground on the outskirts of Rome and seen the fireworks over Heidelberg castle.

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