One of the non-luxuries of renting an apartment is that I have to lug my laundry to the laundromat. Oh sure, it’s only one block to the nearest one, but come on, I hate doing any more than what’s required of me when it comes to such mundane crap. Anyway, since I flew in last night from New York, I had a bunch of laundry to do (translation: no more underwear), so I worked from home this morning. I head over to the laundromat, lugging what really feels like 678 pounds of clothes in one bag. Never multiple bags. Ever. That’s asking way too much. So I do what all guys probably do – I stuff as many clothes as possible into ONE BAG. I mean, I am literally standing on top of the bag in order to fit two more towels in. And it doesn’t help that somehow, as if by osmosis the sheets from the bed have magically appeared in the bag. I did not put them there. And there’s only one other person living with me, so I know who did. Fair enough – I’ll wash the sheets.

Anyway, so there I am, at the laundromat, struggling to actually pull the clothes out of my bag because – let’s face it – it cannot possibly be stuffed any more fully than this, and I finally assign my clothes to 4 different washing machines. No problem. I walk home.

I come back 30 minutes later and I get one of those little transporter baskets to move my clothes from the washing machine to the dryer. I take load #1 over to dryer #1. I come back and as I am starting to unload load #2, this guy walks in with a bag, which looks as fully stuffed as mine was, by the way (confirming my theory – no male uses two bags), and places it into my basket. I look at him as if he is trying to steal my new cute puppy. He then says “are you using this?” and I reply “yes.” He then takes the basket for himself and walks off. I am so stunned I have no idea what to do. After the shock wears off (10 seconds, really) I go grab another basket and I pass the guy who took mine. He looks at me as I grab a different, empty basket and he just smiles at me, really wide. What a dumb shit.