I’m doing laundry right now.
I thought in a building with only two washers and two driers it was just ~done~ to only take up one at a time. However, the other tenants of my building seem to think differently (effers) and now so will I. Yes, so will I.
But I just remembered something that happened a couple of months ago.
You know when you’re doing laundry you can lose track of how many loads you’ve done or what machines you used to do them? At least ~I~ never keep track of these things. And that will explain my not-so-quick-to-act portion of my story.
I was doing laundry. Someone else was doing laundry, too, and was at the drying portion of the event. They had taken the top dryer.
My wash was done and I was gunna load the bottom dryer. I opened the washer lid and noticed that my wash had been ‘gone through’. I just shrugged it off as someone who probably was missing a sock and used the washer before me.
I continued to load the dryer and when I glanced up at the top dryer, among the dark towels was a flash of pink.
Then a flash of yellow.
Then a flash of pink and yellow.
I have pink panties. I also have yellow panties.
And sure as you’re sitting there skimming and disinterested in this blog, I opened the door of the top dryer and retrieved my panties!
Mulling this over while climbing the stairs back to my apartment…and then still while I was telling my boyfriend this story…I (and I hate that I have this ability) came up with a perfectly reasonable explanation. I must’ve used that dryer and my panties stayed inside.
So, when my boyfriend suggested we wait downstairs and confront whoever attempted to steal my panties, I lamed out.
Now, in hindsight, he was right. I didn’t use that dryer that day.
I washed the panties twice over but never was able to wear them again and sadly threw them out.