Laundry Pods vs. Detergent: For the love of pod

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Anyone who knows me knows I love pods… podcasts, that is. Anyone who knows me should also know but may not know that I hate detergent pods. You know the ones—the little soap sacks wrapped in a supposedly disintegrating plastic that you toss in with your laundry, no pouring or measuring necessary. Yeah, those are the absolute fucking worst. But they’re so convenient, you say? Let me flame you. Is it really that time consuming to dump a little liquid detergent in with your laundry? Or into the specific chamber they literally design laundry machines to have so that you can eyeball your detergent and have clothes that are clean and not covered in half-disintegrated plastic goo? Tell me. Is it? Fine, I’ll answer for you.  No it’s not. You’re lazy. Roasted.  

But actually, though. It’s time to make the change back to liquid detergent, college students, and here’s why: laundry pods are a lie. Their allure is that they’re colorful and convenient, but let’s unpack that (and get to the heart of the matter in a way that laundry pods never seem to be able to). According to a study published in the Journal of Pediatrics that I found cited in an article from CBS News that was linked in an article I found on Aol., 17,230 children under the age of six swallowed, inhaled, or suffered skin or eye injuries from laundry pods between 2012 and 2013. That’s a child per hour suffering at the hands of laundry pods. They’re too tempting, too small, and too colorful. The babies can’t resist. Do you like dead kids? No? Then you should hate detergent pods.

And almost worse, quite honestly, is the fact that they don’t even do what they’re supposed to do.  Whenever I pull my wet laundry out of the moldy basement washing machines, I always find a semi-disintegrated detergent sac adhered to my joggers. It’s like a giant lump of mid-cycle discharge: it’s sticky, shaped like a small tumor, and stains your clothes. It leaves a streak of blue or orange across sheets and white t-shirts. Plus, the fact that it’s not entirely dissolved means that for the whole cycle of washing, it was dispersing soap, rendering any rinse cycle totally moot. You end up with soapy laundry covered in discharge and the blood of dead children, and you couldn’t spend the extra 20 seconds it takes to pour your detergent?

Perhaps our generation’s misguided affection for laundry pods stems from a deeply rooted sense of laziness. I mean, it cannot possibly be that we are trying to optimize our time because I know we all watch the Tastemade Snapstory pretty much every day, which takes a lot longer than putting detergent in a machine once every three and a half weeks. But this is one thing that we simply cannot be complacent about anymore. We have to put the effort into bettering ourselves and our lives because no one is going to do it for us. And if you can use real detergent, maybe you can start using dryer sheets, which I promise will change your life.

I won’t lie—at the beginning of college, I bought laundry pods in bulk. I was young. I was naïve. I thought they would suit the college lifestyle. I didn’t consider the drawbacks. And now I have so many. (Seriously, if anyone wants to take them off my hands, you can have them.) But know that as soon as they’re gone, when you see me strutting through the Berkeley basement with my “hip hugger” laundry basket and messy bun, I’ll be an adult, with real liquid detergent and dryer sheets. And when you see me and think, “God dammit. That girl is better than me,” take comfort in knowing that for the first time in your life, you’re right.


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