It all started right after I took a shower; I went back into my room, set down my flimsy, regrettable shower caddy on my floor, and went along with my day. Maybe an hour or so later I noticed that my shampoo was open — not only that, but it was it open, and it was horizontal. The shampoo was horizontally spilling all over my gorgeous dorm room tile floor. This wasn’t just a little, 'I need to go to the store tomorrow to get more' bottle of shampoo. This was a family size, 'I live in a dorm with no car — I need this to last forever' bottle of shampoo.

I thought I was going to drown in the sea of shampoo that was engulfing my negative square foot dorm room. So I used my quick wit and ample problem solving skills and grabbed my raincoat.

Now, I’m sure you’ll be surprised to know my raincoat didn’t do much help. So after a few minutes of grabbing handfuls of shampoo and just sort of placing it in a bundle of waterproof fabric, I went ahead and grabbed my towel.

Ten minutes later I was looking straight down at voluminous, touchable soft tile and looking into my hands to find dripping, shampoo-soaked masses. I knew I needed to wash them, but I figured I should rinse some of the shampoo out first, you know? So I shuffled down the flight of stairs all the way into the Helser dormitory laundry room and started rinsing them off in the giant sink they provide for us for these exact situations.

Rinsing them off was really getting on my nerves though, because they were SO soapy. I mean, the sink was filled with bubbles, and I wasn’t having it. I kept rinsing though, because I’m not completely lazy. I wrung them out a little and they looked pretty good. I mean, they had a few bubbles, but what could be the harm?

I figured a good, final wash would help completely rinse them off, so I threw both my towel and my raincoat in a washer, swiped my NetID, threw in some soap, and started the machine!

I felt successful, much like I always do after a hard half-an-hour of vigorous manual labor.

So 45 minutes later I came down to switch the load to the dryer and… huh, that’s weird… I can’t see into the window of my washer there's soap piled high blocking my vision.

“Well, that’s probably not good...”

I used that wit and problem-solving skill I described earlier, and just ran the washer again.

So, 45 minutes later, I walked down the stairs and I crept around the corner to peek at what sort of state my washer was in. It didn’t look good. It was almost done with the spin cycle and there was still soap everywhere all up in it. I stared in horror at this disaster of a washing machine.

Let’s be clear here, this is a shared laundry room with 700 other college kids.

I wasn’t alone in this room.

One kid looked at me while I was looking at the machine, and I was just like,

“Haaaa, what an idiot, who did this, that is so funny.”

Then he left, taking my pride and dignity along with him.

Enter my best friend Mary, who, prior to her entrance, I had managed to shelter from my stupidity. She laughed while I cried. She took pictures while I fished out my entirely soapy garments. She nearly collapsed when the washer started spilling out bubbles all over the floor.

To this day, I think of myself as the girl who nearly ruined a washer in Helser Hall.

It's something I can take pride in knowing that in the battle of JoEllen versus average household chores, household chores always win.