The Laundry-Room Delimma

I was so thrilled to be able to sign a new six month lease in an apartment downtown, five minutes away from my oncologist, hematologist, internist, testing sites, and all my favorite grocery stores. It was so nice knowing that by paying less than a grand a month, I could get out of debt, save some money to buy a house, the landlords were not anally rententive or cat bigots....the list could go on and on with the things I loved about living here. On that list, however, is NOT the laundry room. So today I sauntered my lazy ass over to the battle ground (i.e. laundry room). I could see out of the corner of my eye the other people with two baskets, one in each hand, walking as fast as they could to the left and to the right of me, attempting to beat me to the machines. You know the types....they HOG the entire laundry room and every single washer in it. How dare I come in and take up only TWO washers!?! Anyway I could see their evil looks...I could feel their eyes upon me as we all struggled to get there the fastest. Have laundry will travel. I won! YAY! I began loading my quarters, added detergent, all of this being a one handed feat, since I had to guard the washer to the right of me from being taken by the evil selfish ones waiting like hyenas behind me. I loaded my next cycle, noted the time on the machines, and slowly walked back to my apartment. Halfway out the door Ms. Hyena (who barely speaks English) yells , "Miss...your washing macheeeeenn eees NOT stahhhting!" Greattttttttttt. Sighing with impatience, I mosied my way back in there, glanced at the display on the second machine and noticed the problem. I don't believe this. It ATE my quarters. "Insert seventy-five cents" states the machine. I stared at it in awe. Pounding it with my fist in anger, I looked at the display once more. "Insert seventy-give cents". The hyenas are circling around me, wondering if I am going to become angry enough to give up the machine. "It doesn't work", I looked back at them and replied. Raising their eyebrows at me, they just turned away, as if they did not care much, and went back to their business of waiting to jump on the next available machine. I still did not trust them. They surely must know some secret to the qaurter-eating monster that I did not. Placing my laundry basket on top of the machine, I quickly jogged back to my apartment, grabbed more quarters, and jogged back. I began to add the new, shiny quarters. To my dismay, the laundry machine merely spat them back out at me. "Damn!" I tried again....to no avail. I looked over at the rest of the laundry room. One machine was stopping. I glanced at one of the hyenas behind me, over my shoulder of course, not directly (I did not want to provoke a laundry room cat fight). She looked at me with a very firm and direct glance, as if to say, "Don't even THINK about it woman". I sighed, took my clothes out of the machine, and walked home. One load won't get done tonight, I imagine. THIS is the part of apartment living about which I am NOT entirely thrilled.