My Chinese Laundry

The 12th floor has a possessed washing machine.

It is perfectly fine until: the spin cycle.

At this point, it procedes to make a continuous noise that one girl thought was the elevator crashing.

I set my first load going this afternoon.

The elevator crashed.

I ran to the laundry and alas, the little washing machine was dancing across the tiles.

The unsuspecting maid also made the dash to investigate.

Through sign language and giggles, we managed to pull the plug and return peace to the 12th floor.

One problem: no spinning = no drying + small apartment with minimal hanging space = this:

A full shower rail...

And a window sill coathanger tree...

There are clothes everywhere.

Tights on the TV.

A skirt on the sink.

Wide-open wardrobe.

My very own Chinese laundry.