Holey laundry, Batman!

Aaaaah, the excitement of using foreign appliances never get dulled. After our visitors left on Thursday I decided to take advantage of my neighbors kind offer to use her dryer whilst she and her beau were away. What bliss I thought to have dry laundry without stringing it up all over the apartment! I can do loads and loads of laundry and it won't take 3 days for it to dry. Heaven. All I had to do was haul my wet laundry upstairs and figure out that pesky foreign dryer. It took a bit of button pressing and nob turning but I finally figures out how to get it working. It's one of those that doesn't have a vent, it has a water collection tank that you have to empty. Don't worry I emptied it before I started my laundry. I was good to go.
My first load turned out fine. It wasn't completely dry, but I was anxious to put in my next load, our comforter, and wasn't worried about a couple towels still being mildly damp. "But," I thought, "I don't want my comforter to be wet we need it for tonight..." So, I cranked up the timer to...well, I don't really know how long I set it for, and decided I'd come back up periodically and check how it was doing. Oops! big mistake. Naturally, I forgot about checking it and...oh say nearly an hour later I remember my comforter was in the dryer, I'd better go see if it was dry yet.
I bounded up the stairs put the key in the lock and began turning it when I thought, "ugh, what's that smell?" There was this acrid, burning, semi-sweet smell hanging in the air. Oh god, the laundry!!! Oh yes, it was my comforter. I punched the button to stop the machine, whipped open the door and was hit by the powerful stench of burned comforter. Oh it was burned alright, I don't mean a little melted, I mean great brown patches of burnt comforter. I beheld the mess and nearly wept.
Ok, I didn't really weep and it wasn't really that messy. The comforter, yes, was a disaster (an extra crispy disaster at that) but the machine was A-OK...if you don't count the offending odor, which now filled the ENTIRE apartment. I delicately pulled out the comforter and surveyed the damage. Shit. It was bad. Completely un-salvageable. Thank god it was mine and not my neighbors - I'd washed and dried a blanket we had borrowed from her in the first load.
Honestly, I didn't even know that dryers could do that! I must sound like a complete idiot but I have never, EVER, in my life put something in the dryer and had it come out well-done. (on a tangent...extra crispy, well-done...could I put in any more food references? How is it that even when I'm not talking about food I am talking about food? Does anyone else see this as some sort of deep-seated problem? we'll ponder that later)

I ran downstairs with stinky blanket in tow and barged into my own apartment, brandishing my failure to my DH. Who innocently looked up from the couch and said, "What happened?"
"I destroyed our blanket!" I screeched, "and their apartment stinks to high heaven. What are we going to do? I feel awful."

Luckily, my DH kept his head about him and said, "I'll come up and look." What he really meant was smell and whoa, it hit him the minute he opened the door. we proceeded to go around their apartment opening every door and window we could find. The air will clear it out, my DH was positive.

As we sat down to dinner late that night I heard someone moving around upstairs. Oh shiezboch (a new word CD created) they couldn't be home already. They're not due back until tomorrow! Ah ha, it's Marie and Michel, the dog sitters. Oh great, how am I going to explain this in French. My DH said, "Just don't go up there. You don't have to tell them anything." But I really felt like I should explain. So, I dutifully trudged up the stairs and told Marie, in my best French that I had burned, brûlé, my blanket. I think she told me, "It happens" and I know that she asked me if I had put it on delicate - which I had not. Oops, again. Marie was satisfied because she could now tell her husband, Michel, that she had not left on the outside light, as he had chastised her for when they had arrived. A happy ending for Marie. Not so much for me. Well, we kept the windows open till about 11:30 p.m. (the discovery of the burning had occured about 3:30 p.m. or so) and the apartment still smelled. Yes, it was better - 8 hours with the fresh, cold air blowing through I would hope it smelled better - but there were still distinct traces of funk in the air. Sadly, that funk was still there the next morning when our neighbors arrived home. I am so thankful that they were very laid back about the whole thing. They even said I could use the dryer again, they left almost immediately for a ski week. I guess as long as we watch Picasso, the snaggle-toothed slobber hound they're OK with us stinking up their apartment with the stank of singed synthetic fibers! All's well that ends well, I guess. Though I'm not sure I'll be using their dryer again. Then again, you never know....

Yep, that's an actual hole. I seriously burned a hole, TWO in fact, in my comforter. Who would have thought little old me not being able to use a French dryer! Hey, in my defense, instructions were not included....