Over in my condo complex, we have a single laundry room and each of us have an assigned day to use it. We are small, only eight units. Because we do not live in a Beatles song, Thursday is assigned to two units.
Lucky for me, my day is Wednesday. I am home sick from work today, so I have time to do more than "survival laundry" (ie- the dirtiest and smelliest socks and underwear). I did my first load, opened up the dryer to find a load from the day, or possibly the night (jungle rules after 6:00), before.
Bear in mind, I am the only male in this complex. Everyone else is women. Now before someone writes, "hey, hey, hey...", there is only one other person in the whole complex under the age of fifty. The distaff nature of the complex meant that the load was full of women's underwear.
So, now what...if I take the laundry out, I end up offending the possibly elderly lady whose dainty underthings are in there. Now, I don't imagine that younger women get offended the same way but, if the thirty-something gal on the end (whose day is Sunday) owns the laundry, then she gets creeped out. At least there is the vicarious but dubious thrill of handling her panties.
I went ahead and took the laundry out. We'll see if I get yelled at.
Lucky for me, my day is Wednesday. I am home sick from work today, so I have time to do more than "survival laundry" (ie- the dirtiest and smelliest socks and underwear). I did my first load, opened up the dryer to find a load from the day, or possibly the night (jungle rules after 6:00), before.
Bear in mind, I am the only male in this complex. Everyone else is women. Now before someone writes, "hey, hey, hey...", there is only one other person in the whole complex under the age of fifty. The distaff nature of the complex meant that the load was full of women's underwear.
So, now what...if I take the laundry out, I end up offending the possibly elderly lady whose dainty underthings are in there. Now, I don't imagine that younger women get offended the same way but, if the thirty-something gal on the end (whose day is Sunday) owns the laundry, then she gets creeped out. At least there is the vicarious but dubious thrill of handling her panties.
I went ahead and took the laundry out. We'll see if I get yelled at.