I’m dreading it.

I know it’s coming. There’s no avoiding it. I woke up in a cold sweat a few nights ago because I was having a nightmare about it. A pink sock slipped into the load of whites…

Yep, that’s right, “it” is Laundry Day.

For seven days now, I’ve watched the pile of dirty clothes on my floor grow bigger and bigger. The crumpled T-shirts tease me: “Melanie! We know you’ll never be able to wash us the way your mom did!”

The socks beg for cleanliness: “Please wash us! We’re smelly!”

It’s not like I’m unprepared or anything. While my mom and I were dorm shopping back in July, we spent a good 10 minutes in the laundry detergent aisle, deciding between Tide and Cheer, scented and non-scented, big bottles and small ones. I simply stood there and stared at the threatening jugs of detergent. We then picked out a big white laundry basket and a mesh bag. I was repulsed.

“Mom,” I said on the ride home, “isn’t there any way you can still do my laundry? Like, can’t I ship my clothes home?”

She laughed. “No, honey, this is something you need to learn to do by yourself.”

And so the lessons began. My mom showed me how to turn on the machine, pour detergent, separate whites and darks, and everything else I could possibly need to know about laundry.

She made it look simple.

But now that I’m here, it’s like I have stage fright. What if I blow up the washing machine? What if the dryer shrinks all my clothes? What if a pink sock really DOES slip into my load of whites?!

I need to do it. I’ve gotta wash my clothes before my roomie starts complaining about the smell. I mean, she’s already done laundry twice since we’ve been here. Clearly, it’s my side of the room sending that sweaty stench into the air.

Perhaps I can find a way around this whole laundry thing. I was considering hiring someone on my floor to do it. I could pay them in cash or homemade Funfetti cookies. But then, by the end of the year, I’d be broke. And cookie-less.

Maybe I should invest in some Febreze instead. You know, the stuff you spray into the air that smells like a mix of flowers and zoo animals. I could spray it straight into my mesh laundry bag. Yeah! That could totally work! Well, except for the fact that my stuff would never be washed and I would run out of clothes to wear…

So fine. I’m out of ideas. I guess I have to do my own laundry like a normal college kid. After all, learning to be self-sufficient is a huge part of growing up and going to college — laundry is just the first step.

U of I, I’m just going to warn you all in advance: If the laundry room in Van Doren Hall blows up the campus, you can blame me.

_Melanie is a freshman in Media._