don't you want me to have a clean uniform?

I try to have this rule about laundry in my building. We have two washers and two dryers; mine is not a large apartment building, but all it takes is for one other person to want to do their laundry on a Monday afternoon, and I could be screwed. So generally I'll only monopolize one set--that way, if someone else has a laundry emergency, they don't have to wait forty minutes for my stuff to finish. If a third person wants the machine, they are S.O.L. I still think it makes for good karma re: me, however.

But it does tend to take a long time, and sometimes I like to sleep in on Mondays--I always work at four, so I have a limited amount of time in which to do this laundry. My new thing was to wait fifteen or twenty minutes before snagging the second machine; I'm staggering my laundry for the convenience of others, if you will.

This was also spurred by a passive-aggressive laundry war I was having with an inarticulate Asian man who would use all the machines, and continue to put loads in after I pointedly left my basket next to a washer one day to claim my place in the machine line-up.

Today, however, I've decided to walk to work (because not only is it beautiful out, but also my path will skirt me through Yorkville, and since I'm finally living in the city during the Film Festival, I might as well try and see ONE celebrity), so I have even less time to spare for my cleaning endeavours. So I sez to myself, I sez, Susan, just stick both loads in at once. You haven't seen anyone down here for the last couple Mondays; just go for it.

So naturally, today when I went to put my loads in the dryers, a little old lady was sitting on the sofa in the laundry room, looking sad and staring at the washers mournfully. And then asked me questions about how everything worked.

EDITED TO ADD: I went down to retrieve my clean, dry clothes, and what had happened? One of the dryers had opened during the cycle (MYSTERIOUS, non?), and the timer had apparently kept going without actually doing anything. So my clothes were still damp. I had to put another buck fifty in! Enraged, I got into the shower and seethed*. And now I just went to get my stuff (leaving 27 minutes on the timer, bah), and the other dryer was making the most ridiculous thunking noises. I feel like the little old lady put some dead cats in there or something. Or both her loads into the one dryer. But really, it sounded like something that had been subjected to rigor mortis** was in there.

*slight exaggeration
**perhaps also a slight exaggeration