"Noah, I found the Flood! It's in my laudry room!"

So a funny thing happened to me yesterday morning--and by funny I totally mean not funny at the time but kinda hilarious in retrospect. I feel a little background is required. As established last school year, I wake up on Saturday at an unheard of time for a college student: 7am. Why, you may ask? Do I have some unfortunate sleep disorder? Do my favorite Saturday morning cartoons come on at that time? Am I just plain "cray cray"? No, I do my laundry.

Oh, laundry. I feel as though doing laundry is a kind of college rite of passage as depicted in films like The Prince & Me. I could actually do my own laundry before starting college, but the semi-, kinda-sorta anti-social part of me tries to avoid contact with other human beings while doing so. I hate waiting around for an empty machine, let alone three so I can get all my clothes done at the same time, so I make the trek at a time when rest of college civilization is asleep. But yesterday was just my lucky day I guess.


My routine started out normal enough: put the clothes in, detergent in, right temp settings. I go back to my room to do a little work. When I go back UP (a crucial detail), I see water rippling over the entire laundry room floor; I hear a waterfall splashing down from the culprit machine. Following my initial shock, I nearly have a heart attack. I seriously cannot believe this is happening to me.

You hear about these kinds of things happening and think "I'd hate to be that poor schmuck who had to deal with that." I WAS THE SCHMUCK NOW! And you always wonder how you might react in a situation like that. My first thought was "Oh man, I better go put my other loads in the dryer!" Really? That's really what I had to do at that moment?  Go figure.

When I race downstairs to get the Resident-Assistant-On-Duty phone number, my ears are assaulted by the sound of heavily dripping water as I exit the elevator. The flooding on the second floor had begun raining down upon the first floor lobby. After two dropped calls (thank you T-Mobile) and a mis-dial, I finally get a hold of the RA, who I happen to know. He deserves some major props for being super calm and cool about the whole thing. Even the Hall-Director-On-Duty was chill about the whole situation.

It wasn't the first time the wash machine broke. It was a rare thing, but it happened before (signs of former water damage on the lobby ceiling are still visible). It could have happened to anyone, but it happened to me. Some other poor schmuck would have had their clothes in that machine later that same day if it hadn't been me.

Unexpectedly, I had a couple of life lessons reiterated by this debacle. Some things are out of your control. Sometimes it's your turn to be the poor schmuck. And you know what, it's not even remotely your fault. I didn't break the machine; it just happened that way. Flukes happen in life, and there really is no point in crying over spilled laundry water. Handle the flukes (or floods) as best you can. Know that is isn't your "fault" (unless you kicked the machine for some reason), so it's safe to stop apologizing incessantly (like a schmuck). And learn from the crazy (I will definitely be keeping a better eye on my laundry). Peace!

***The lovely woman from housekeeping used her magic water sucking vacuum and parted the Red Sea all the way to nonexistence. And the culprit machine has a lovely sign on it saying it's broken, officially making it a pariah among its friends. The laundry returned to its previous condition in a matter of an hour or two, and most of the hall residents remained oblivious.***