But somehow I still manage to put my Ipod in with my laundry…
Last weekend (Halloween weekend) was crazy. And to cap it off, I had to go into work on the Sunday blaaaahhhh. I’d gone to bed at 5am and woke up with a couple hours before I had to start work, got some orgasmic hangover Chinese food and proceeded to stuff my face. Of course that made me drowsy and because I was in a rush I neglected to have any coffee, so naturally I’m walking into work like FML how am I supposed to survive 5 hours of this?! By the time I got on break I had a surge of energy somehow when I realized that I’d left my Ipod at my friend’s house where the party was, which just wasn’t going to do—I’m surprised I even forgot that I forgot it because I’m rarely ever unplugged, music for me is crack.
This is where it all begins. While I’m on break I call my boyfriend. “Babe can you PLEASE drive to my work and drop off my Ipod before you go home?” Because my cheap ass ain’t spending 3 bucks on the subway to go get it. He’s awesome because he’s at the store within half an hour dropping it off, my life practically in his hands. It’s obvious I’m hungover, I look like I just rolled out of bed and you can still see remnants of the black hair spray dye from my costume (a dramatic change from my previously glamorous identity as Kim Kardashian the night before) and I have a feeling that my ridiculously unflattering work uniform doesn’t help my case. It’s funny because my boyfriend and I have been together over a year and I was mortified that he had to see me at work all opposite of my normal diva Taylor self. I mean I’m sure he’s seen me in worse states but working at a crappy minimum wage job is such a ballbuster for me LOL. And then I’m sure I’m exaggerating—for entertainment purposes of course—but I swear he didn’t want to kiss me goodbye since I was looking so busted. He’s going to read this and be like “You were at work I didn’t want to make you look bad!” Sure…
Anyways, I get home with my baby in tow—which I almost actually forgot at work down at the cash register…I remember tossing it in my pocket thinking, “Oh shit that was close! I’d never forgive myself for forgetting it again!”—and start to do my laundry, clean my room, get ready for the week. The washing machine is going and I’m sweeping up, there’s a pile of clothes on my bed and shit everywhere from the weekend. Maybe 15 minutes in I think to look for my Ipod to put it away. I always do this thing whenever I’m cleaning or getting myself organized where I account for my most valued electronics and put them in a safe place all together (Ipod, phone and camera). However at this point in time I couldn’t find the Ipod, so I figure it’s in the mess of things on my bed, I’ll find it when I go to make my bed for sure. I forget about it. A couple hours later it’s close to bedtime and the last load of laundry is in and going. All of a sudden I can hear the washing machine start to wind down and die, it’s a rather depressing sound. I go and check and sure enough the water is full and it’s just stopped. I try stopping and starting it again, opening and closing the lid. I’m freaking out. It’s midnight, I’m tired as hell and have school the next day, it’s one of those moments where I’m like, “Waaahhhh just start already!!! I can’t even deal with this right now!” I’m trying to figure out what to do then realize my good blazer is in there, all my pants, towels… I start complaining to my roommate about how the last people didn’t take good enough care of the washing machine, I’m yelling that I’m emailing our landlord like “GET THIS SHIT FIXED ASAP!!!” Drag all my clothes sopping wet in my laundry basket, throw them in my bathtub like I’ll deal with this tomorrow. I climb into bed and am about to fall asleep when I realize: I still haven’t found my Ipod!
It’s then that I start to backtrack. When I got my Ipod downstairs at the cash register, I put it in my sweater pocket. I think by now you’ve figured out where my sweater was…I leap out of bed, run to the bathroom where the clothes are sitting soaked in the tub, frantically check the pockets of my hoodie. Not there. Breathe a momentary sigh of relief. But then I think of the washing machine with a cringe. No. This can’t be happening. You’re tired Taylor, delirious. The water is all dark and murky reminding me of one of those horror movies when the person reaches into it and has their arm yanked off by some creature…my hand is shaking as I hesitantly reach all the way to the bottom of the washing machine, scrambling around feeling for something that I pray isn’t there.
Oh it’s there. Wedged in, jamming the spin cycle.
Part of me is relieved because I know that the washing machine isn’t broken. Another part of me is scarred for life as I drag my beloved out from the bottom of the water. I’ll never love again. Run to my roommate’s room. “Can you please look up the Apple website? I need to buy a new ipod…” I start to kind of cry on her bed, except I’m too tired to put much effort into it and in this I also start to laugh because I realize how pathetic I must look, not to mention that from an objective standpoint, it actually is a pretty hilarious situation.
I feel like the biggest dumbass going to The Source the next day at 9am dropping two bills on some other crappy Ipod I don’t even want, ironically I had just been dissing the touch screen on my boyfriend’s Iphone and now I’m stuck with one. Although I regret not being more careful, it makes for a funny story. And just when I thought that this was my most profound moment of idiocy I get my midterm marks back, both As, so I suppose my pride is temporarily restored.
But then again, book smarts doesn’t always equate to common sense….Sigh