There is something so very special about those days when everything that seems to be going wrong suddenly takes an unseen course of action. I was doing laundry again, as I do every Saturday, only to head into the laundry room and notice (likely due to my lateness) that most laundry machines were in use, which was to be expected on a Saturday. This is why I disciplined myself to go early, but some days you’re just off. In fact, all but one laundry machine was in use (actually, two laundry machines weren’t in use, but the other one was broken, so I chose not to count it) only to realize that across the bar that’s supposed to tell you whether you’re supposed to pay, press start, or close the machine door displayed “Press Start” instead of “Pay.” That meant one of two things. Either someone had paid and completely ditched the laundry room for reasons unknown or the machine (or system) was going wack again, which, for all those who don’t know, has happened to me before.

And that only means one thing. Free laundry. 

I made my way around the relatively small laundry room only to quickly realize that I was the only person in the entire room (and also the only person pacing back and forth in this laundry room), so I decided I might as well use the machine. I mean, I had no other options. My only other option was to wait, but I don’t see why I’d wait around just to pay for laundry. I’m sure the next person who walked in and noticed this "free load of laundry" would also take advantage of it, so why not me? That is, especially when the next person who was going to walk into the laundry room was likely going to be my roommate, who definitely doesn't need the free laundry.

I didn’t either, but this is the biggest load of clothes I’ve had in weeks.

Tossing in my Tide pod and making the selections I always do, I pressed "Start,” and sure enough, it started washing. With 30 minutes on the clock, I made my way out of the laundry room and back into my room, where I grabbed my Barnes & Noble tote bag, which I use for groceries, and made my way downstairs and across the street towards Safeway. With the yellow lights flashing as they always do and drivers still not giving a care about pedestrians—driving at an ever-constant speed and never stopping—I weaved through the aisles before settling in an aisle packed with sparkling water, given that the location in which I had purchased my sparkling water from last time had changed. But, thankfully, the deal remained: 3 packs of La Croix for $12.

Great.

I made my way over to the checkout line, but unlike last time, none of the self-checkout registers were occupied, so I scanned away, pretending I was a cashier for my three items, wishing myself a great rest of my day before making my way back across the street towards the side door, which, in last time’s telling, refused to open.

But, with prayerful words and a heart full of gratitude, I held my ACCESS card to the scanner, to which the scanner turned green as if to say, “I’ll open; just pull on me or use the disabled button; don’t push me like the idiot before you,” which is what I did, pulling on it, giving it a gentle but hefty tug, only for the door to refuse to open.

Again.