How to Hide Dirty Laundry

Looking for a new mini manse last month, there were a few very important priorities I kept in mind. I wanted to stay within my zip code (which is the 90210 of Nashville – but don’t go thinking I’m a classy, rich gal – click here to read about how I manage to trash up the area – fabulously of course. My previous place was more on the Skid Row side of Nashville’s Beverly Hills…and now I scored a place on the outskirts – I’m so moving up), I wanted to stay in a perimeter where my favorite watering hole Dalts, delivers food (seriously, this is what I was considering) and I required a laundry area within the walls of my residence (THE HORROR of having to revert to coins and carrying dirty clothes to and from a laundry mat after all these years of being spoiled by having machines in my duplex).

While other folks who are moving consider school systems, safety of neighborhoods and the overall atmosphere of an apartment complex, I was worried about how close I am to my favorite bar, whether or not I can maintain my prestigious (in my mind) zip code and the ability to clean clothes in my new mini manse. Shallow much? (At least I’m honest). So you can imagine my delight when I signed a lease to a new place that met all three of my requirements. Now I just needed a washer and dryer…

Woohoo!

My new laundry wing. Woohoo!

My washing quarters fit snuggly in this cozy bathroom – which is probably about as big as a jail cell.

Combo bathroom/laundry wing

Triple duty! A shitter, shower AND laundry wing.

There was one teeny, tiny problem.  As the washer and dryer I acquired from a friend at work sat on a truck in my parking lot awaiting their new home, my buddies moving me in didn’t think they would fit after viewing (and measuring – why would I have thought to measure?! Aren’t all appliances the same size? Being blonde is hard work.) the space. Mother f’er.

Enter Dad – the ever constant hero in my life.  He did some research, found an alternative to a gargantuan dryer vent and remeasured to be sure that the twosome I longed for would fit into my naked laundry wing. Once again my work buddies (who are probably loving to hate me and anything having to do with the word move) came back with the appliances…carrying them down ten stairs, taking the bathroom door off its hinges to get them in the minute space and sliding them into their new home (zero profanity was used during this time).

They fit! Except now one of the f’ing doors won’t slide shut.

They fit. Except now the f'ing door won't shut.

Why do dryers have to be so fat?

Tiny spaces

And what design genius put three doors in this tiny space?!

So problem solver Dad took the door off its hinges, which almost had me in tears, as I am OCD about things looking perfect. How could I ask company to sit on a toilet and gaze at my duct tape, modge podge, tools (I don’t know how to use) and dirty laundry?

Door expert

Door expert.

Seeing the look on my face, my dad immediately realized the situation was dire (to me). I mean, look at the door behind the toilet…

Whole lotta crammin' going on.

Whole lotta crammin’ going on.

Trying to avert the water damn about to break from my eyeballs (I’m typically not this dramatic but it’d been a tough week/month/year and this goddamn washer/dryer seemed like the world to me at that exact moment), Dad suggested I clean the junk up off the floor (while he cooled off with a cocktail) before permanently placing the dryer in its new digs – which ended up being a five step process due to the size of the bathroom.

Remnants

Remnants of last tenants…eww gross.

I got a workout hoisting the vacuum up on the dryer just so I could slide myself into the room and shut the door.

puhlease

Could we please put one more thing in this 6 x 6 room?

Once the cleaning device was in, I had to climb on top of the washer (due to my overly ample derriere) to maneuver the nozzle on the vacuum in the corners of the floor. Who knew I was an acrobat?

Squeeze

No room for big butts.

All of that climbing and cleaning cleared my mind for a moment of clarity in this blonde brain. I can’t have doors on my laundry wing…but what about a shower curtain? Dad and I hopped in the car and headed for my mothership…Target.

Target to the rescue!

My favorite red and white bullseye to the rescue!

After a quick trip and $30 for a shower curtain, rod and rings, my door problems were solved. No one was going to get to wonder what the hell is crammed in all of my closet bins while doing their business.

Shelves

Pay no attention to the junk behind the curtain…

In all of three minutes, the finishing touches were accomplished.

Laundry wing complete

No doors? No problem.

All thanks to CBXB’s own personal Mr. Fix It.

Once again, a hero! I'll give you three guesses to his top favorite sports teams.

I’ll give you one guess to his top three favorite sports teams.

Need your own laundry wing tweaked? I’ll lend this guy out – but it’s gonna cost you.

Probably just a Skinny Pirate or two. Wait, make that a bottle (or three) of Captain.

Cheers!

CBXB

CBXB!

Trashy Travel Tricks

I’m a germaphobe (although you’d never guess it when I become a bathroom bartender (which of course, I’m an expert in) at sporting events and concerts – but alcohol kills the germs, OK? At least that’s what I tell myself to save money).

When I am traveling on a low-budget, staying at a one star hotel or residing in a cabin owned by complete strangers that rent it out on a regular basis, I come fully equipped with my Bed in a Bag. It’s a rip off of a sleeping bag but it’s made out of sheets. There’s even room for my pillow! And I cover up with my blanket from home. Psycho? Yes.

Bed in a Bag!

Do I look ridiculous? Absolutely. Do I sleep easier, knowing the bed bugs won’t bite? Absolutely!

I always pack my flip-flops for less than perfectly cleaned showers and slippers to wear around the hotel room. But when forced to make an unexpected stop while traveling at midnight, I’m forced to compromise. I put a plastic bag down in the shower to stand on (because I might get someone elses’ left over hair from the shower curtain on my feet – THE HORROR!) and use my socks as my slippers as soon as I get out of the shower. I don’t put them on, as it’s easier to scoot around the tile.

Makeshift slippers.

Classy makeshift slippers.

A traveling companion always helps when you’re having to touch all kinds of things you dare not (doorknobs, remote control, the comforter on the bed). Luckily for me, I often travel with my dad and he acts as my official gross hotel knob toucher.

When the light was shining too brightly at 1am on a recent trip to Iowa, I asked if he could shut the lamp off in the corner (a gal needs her beauty sleep, ya dig?).  Luckily (or lazily) for him, he has long arms and was able to perform this task while seated.

going...

Going…

Going...

Going…

Off!

Off!

Thank God for Dads!

As you can probably tell, I typically do not stay the Ritz Carlton, forcing me to become a raging lunatic over germs. Am I missing any tricks and secretly acquiring stranger germs?

Tell me before I get someone else’s cold from last week!

CBXB

CBXB!