Helping Flood the Launderette

After I had finished my four hours at work this morning, I headed home, then went straight down the launderette. This was really the last place I wanted to be in the world, and really wanted to be drifting back into sleep on my bed...
The launderette is quite busy on a Saturday, but I was pleased to find a spare washer. I put my clothes in and had just settled back on my seat by the window to continue reading the book of true ghost stories I hadn't had time to read when I noticed that something was wrong.
I looked again.
There seemed to be quite a copious amount of water coming out of my washing machine. I jumped up and tried to close the door properly, to no avail. The water spread in a pool around my feet.
'I think there may be something wrong with the machine' I said to the woman behind the counter, who looked like she had wondered in from a 1960s episode of Coronation Street.
'You can't do anything now once its started. You've got your clothes stuck in the door'.
This did indeed seem to be the case. The water continued spreading about me. No-one else in the launderette seemed remotely concerned about this.
The woman bought out two towels, and I attempted vainly to mop up the spreading water.
'You can't do anything, it will just keep coming out'.
I looked at my book of true ghost stories on the side. I had been looking forward to reading that.
She bought out a mop. I tried to mop up the water.
The sock, or whatever it was that had become lodged in the machine had now disentangled itself. At least no more water was coming out. Strangely I was quite happy mopping up the water, and felt strangely sad when I had done all I could.
I returned the mop and sodden towels to their rightful place beside the counter, apologising to the woman once again for the 'lodged sock' incident.
'You won't be the first and you won't be the last' she said.
She spoke not only with the voice of experience, but the voice of precognition too.
I had finished reading one report (about a house haunted by the ghost of an unfriendly woman on the stairs) when I heard the rough tones of the launderette assistant again. I looked up to discover that the washing machine next to the one I was using was now disgorging a high volume of water in the sane way that mine had been.
'You've got your clothes stuck in the door!' the woman railed 'First him and now you!'
I felt quite tempted to point out to her how prescient her last words to me had been, that she had been right in ascertaining that I wouldn't indeed be the last person to leave a sock, or some other item of clothing, lodged in the door of the washer creating a miniatiure and entertaining flood.
I thought it would be best not to though, and resumed reading.