For some reason I thought it’d be a good idea to hold off on doing laundry until Monday morning. The problem, of course, is that my apartment building has a laundry room that is locked until 8:00am. 26 minutes washing + 60 minutes drying + 15 minutes sorting/elevator time = late for work.

Imagine my surprise when, after dragging my ass from bed at the ungodly hour of 7:30am (how do you people do it?), I arrived in the basement to find 10 of 12 machines in use. There was another gentleman surveying the room. He graciously offered both to me.

Instead of blissfully dozing off on the couch as nature would have me do, I must continuously ask myself the question, “is it 9:48am yet?”