Wednesday, July 2, 2008

Dick Move

I was doing my laundry tonight, and the person who was using the dryer before me left her clothes in 3 of the 4 dryers.  Guess what?  I needed all 4 dryers.
 
The rule in our laundry room is that you should promptly remove your clothes so things like this don't happen. 
 
Now I understand if you can't be there at the exact minute your drying cycle ends.  That's why I put my clothes in the empty dryer first.  Then I waited a minute or so before unloading the stranger's clothes from the other dryers.  Once it was apparent this person wasn't coming, I started emptying each dryer, one at a time, and filling them with my clothes.  This way, if that person got there, I won't have removed any of her items if I didn't have to.  That's awkward.  I mean, I don't want to touch your underthings just as much as you don't want me to, but I'm on a schedule here, too.
 
The person didn't get down there by the time I finished, so I thought I successfully avoided the awkward apologies for touching her clothes.  At least.
 
When I was emptying the last of my quarters into the dryers, I couldn't help thinking how great it was that I had JUST ENOUGH quarters to do my laundry.  I practically dusted my hands together in accomplishment.  I even double-checked that I pressed the start button on each machine.  If I don't do that, then the red power light will stay on, but the machine won't run, and I'll have wet clothes in an hour.  I've done this before.  It sucks.
 
So, how do you think it felt when I went to retrieve my clothes promptly after the drying cycle, only to find that not one, but THREE of the dryer doors were opened slightly?  And guess which three they were? 
 
That's right:  The ones that had that chick's clothes in them. 
 
Opened, just a teeny bit.  Cutting off my drying cycle.  There was no red light on the dryer; I had no drying time left.  I had no quarters.
 
It was clearly an act of revenge, as each door was opened about an inch.  Each load had the same level of lukewarm dampness.  And none of those dryers had shoes or anything of the like that could blow the door open from the inside.  This was standard laundry, and no such thing had happened before in my 1.5 years in this building.  It was, in short, a dick move.
 
Now I'm up here in my apartment, fuming, because I have to run to the currency exchange where the scum of the earth find ways to haggle over the balance of their Link Cards while I wait in line, feigning patience.  But I can't run to the currency exchange until my Thai food gets here.  Shrimp noodle soup I ordered to be perfectly timed with the accomplishment of folding my clean laundry.
 
Good grief.  I want to retaliate somehow, but I can't.  It was an anonymous crime.  All I can do is let it out here, and hope that by the time my food gets here and I run down the street for more quarters, feed the machines, and run back upstairs...my soup will still be warm.
 
So there's that,
 
Laura

2 comments:

manda said...

what a f***tard

Laura said...

excellent use of your new vocabulary, sis!