Dear Diary:
Hauling 50 pounds up and down four flights of stairs is what happens when you live in a building without a laundry room and go three weeks between washes.
Worse, there’s only a pair of six-load Megas at the Second Avenue Launderette. So I make a beeline for the unused one. Jerk the load on top of the machine and toss in a pair of socks. Head to the back for quarters.
When I return, a guy who works for the local gym has removed a sock and is stuffing towels. When I protest, the guy yells he’s been using both Megas, and that “mine†was just between washes.
After a minute I decide he’s got the better case (and his boss likely wanted him back ASAP). So I break out my load into smaller machines and leave for half an hour to run errands.
Come back to load dryer. The towel guy is gone but his towels are in the dryer. So I toss in the leftover sock. Figure one doesn’t do either of us any good.
Return in an hour. The place is now empty. Remove load. Start folding.
All is good, except I find … I now have an extra towel.
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