Didn’t I used to be competant at doing my own laundry? Have I ever been forced to wear pink clothes? or grey clothes? Not before I came to London. I thought I had it figured out, after the last debacle when I died everything grey. I seperated my colors better, no black socks. Just white socks and underwear. Now, do I have a drawer full of white underwear? No, because I am not a 12 year old boy. However, I don’t have anything that is so full of dye that it would ruin another load of laundry.
Apparently I did, have one pair that turned everything PINK. Come on. Everything has been washed before, how do I keep blowing this. It is the front loading washer dryer combo that I am blaming this all on. So, at midnight I am in the student laundry facility with a bottle of bleach, trying to reclaim my socks and underwear. I ran into one of my RAs outside of the laundry, told her my washer was too good. That it found any trace of dye in the clothes and sucked it out and shared it with all the other perfectly happy white and pastel cottens.
No, the trick is to wash it at less than 30 centigrade on a short cycle. Oh, that is the trick. Fuck. I, honestly, washed it at like 90 centigrade with a pre-wash and intense rinse. A gaurentee that even if I’d just done a load of whites they would be pink. The washing machine would go to my room, find a red sock from the previous tenant, suck up that dye, and dye my whites pink.
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