It's been a while since laundry was anything but a minor chore performed in the background, but the adventure is back!
My unit of four townhomes shares a tiny (3x6), locked laundry room. I have never seen any of the other three people in that room. The psychotic old woman from the other side of the complex? Sure. I walked in on her pulling my clothes out of the dryer Friday night.
"Oh!" she said, shocked.
"What are you doing with my clothes? Wasn't the dryer still running?"
"Uhhhh....no!"
"Then how come it still says 30 minutes remain?"
"I thought they were housekeeping's."
"Put them back and don't touch my shit again."
"There's no need to be vulgar."
"Yes. You're definitely the victim here."
Incident 2 occurred at 7am on a Sunday morning. I unlocked the door to find a shocked and disoriented young white guy, coming down off something, lying on the floor. There's no room to stretch, so he was in a fetal position.
"Wha?! Sorry. I'll be out in 20 minutes," he said.
"What takes 20 minutes? Roll out."
"Don't be a dick, dude."
Ah yes, I remember this well. Society's bottom-feeders, lying in a puddle of their own stupid choices, blaming everyone else. A presidential candidate who validated that could go far, I think.