Dear Dorm Laundry Room,

Thank you for being the most unpleasant place on campus for me to spend my time. Thank you for being noisy and claustrophobic regardless of the time of day. It’s pretty amazing; I could haul my butt out of bed in the dark of night to wash my laundry and even when totally empty you would still lend that feeling of entrapment I had once thought exclusive to prison cells.

Thanks for watching silently as others pull my stuff out of the machines and shove in their own grody garments. Seriously, I hope you at least give some side eye or something. I’d appreciate a bit of loyalty in the future.

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You provide me with a course in mental agility because you’re never fully functional. It’s like a fun little puzzle I get to solve, and in exchange, I get my socks cleaned! What will it be today? Will you reject my ID card, activate the wrong machine, or leave my towels damp after two dry cycles? The mystery of it thrills me endlessly! You also give me a workout by keeping the driers just out of reach. I may even end up with a six pack simply by throwing piles of wet, heavy laundry over my head once a week.

Laundry Room, you’re also the perfect forum to bump into people. I don’t know about other students, but I know that I always look my best when I’m hauling my clothes down a cajillion flights of stairs in my pajama pants. Thank you also for making my clothes scorching hot so that I end up burning my fingers on my jeans button. It adds that element of danger that I often find missing in my Cornell Experience.

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Never change, Laundry Room. Never expand to accommodate the number of students that need your assistance and please, I beg you, continue to be the windowless chamber where courtesy goes to die. I won’t lie to you, Laundry Room, haters are gonna hate. But you keep doing you. Through it all know that someone out there loves you.

With Equal Parts Affection and Exasperation,

Colleen