Laundry Day

Wednesday is a quiet day. A good day for a guy to do his laundry in a girl's dorm.

After a quick sort and a scramble for quarters I made my way to Voight Hall's basement. I loaded both machines with soap, water, clothes, and $1.75 in coins, and then headed off on some errands. A half hour later I moved my stuff into two driers. Forty minutes later the entire pile was folded and ready for business.

In preparation for class, I selected a pair of toasty slacks from the top of the pile to replace the sweat pants I usually grace laundry day with. I was looking good and feeling great as I locked my dorm door behind me and started toward the Radio and Television building across the street. I was about halfway there when I detected a thin, scratchy strip of material wedged down the left leg of my pants. When I took another step, I could tell that this thing was on the move.

"Dryer sheet," I thought to myself. Those gauzy things that are supposed to keep your stuff from clinging yet somehow manage to cling to everything. I did an about face and made my way back inside Voight hall just in time to see the rumple appear at my ankle. I lifted my leg so that I could gracefully pull the wad out only to discover what I thought was a cling free sheet was one of my laundry room mate's frilly, purple and white thongs - a gift of the dryer's black hole.

I stuffed the floss like garment into my pocket and walked quietly down to the laundry room where I placed it on a hook intended for unclaimed laundry. I did not see a soul. After all, it was Wednesday, a quiet day, a good day for a guy to do his laundry in a girl's dorm.