Late Night Laundry Diatribe

I never liked doing laundry.
I always avoid doing it until there really is no way I can go on with the clothes I have left. It's never really that much of a chore once I actually do it.
But the initial desire to pick them up and walk the fifty yards or so to the washing machine is often hard to conjure.
This is the laundry room in the Southern Belle. The washers take forever and one of the dryers is currently out of use. Which makes laundry an even bigger nuisance. There are about fifty guys living here, all sharing this one room. People walk in and take out stuff thats already there to replace it with their own. Subsequently, the other guy comes back in, replaces his own laundry and everything takes about double the time.

See. It's balls.

It's not grown up and responsible like everyone tries to convince me. It's a vicious circle. Dog eat dog. Clothes get shrunk when you don't know how long stuff has been in there!

So that justifies me waiting so long to do my laundry and so late at night.

Mum can't complain. No one can. I used my logic this time.