I picked up my clean and perfectly folded laundry this evening from “panty-man” (my name for Felix) and he informed me that he packaged my belongings in a new bag because mine (my Kent School laundry bag) was “falling apart,” and “Gia, no charge but that one is just…done; it’s not working out for you.”
But I don’t use other bags! Every other laundry bag I’ve bought is terrible and could be called a “dumb-bag,” so I rely on my Kent one.
I’ve already had to retire my Camp Seafarer laundry bag (reserved for whites) because it really did have too many holes to function. Rock it, North Carolina.
While not emotionally attached to anything made out of material, I realized these bags happen to be the best and have lasted decades. Other laundry bags have just not been good to me. They are too long; I am too short. I do not like synthetic blends, the list goes on, etc.
(BTW, I recently saw a Kent laundry bag in my BFF’s apt. I am not the only one who still relies on it, and therefore feel OK admitting this.)
I think my issue with panty-man Felix is “Why didn’t you ask before replacing it?” But to him it was a matter of, “Darling, I’m doing you—and your devoted team here—a favor. We cannot work like this.”
Well, I cannot carry some no-name bag that has no functionality. It’s my Kent laundry bag and is still the sturdiest (yes, with a few holes) perfect package and I want to use it.
Rip my soul, then. If there will be no bag, I welcome you to arrange everything in my closets and drawers as well. I cannot walk a block carrying anything else, even if you fold everything as perfectly as you do.
Change is always difficult, *sigh.*