Living in a condo building usually means sharing laundry space. I’m not good at this. I use the entire room as my personal laundry room, with one machine as a folding table and the others as well, mine.
I got an early start on Saturday morning and brought my laundry down, only to see another person’s laundry sitting at the door. I’m not typically a jerk, so I left a machine open for this person, figuring he or she would be down in the next thirty minutes or so to put the stuff in.
An hour later I come down and still the stranger’s laundry sits, untouched. Fine, I say. Maybe I didn’t give enough time. I switch the loads and continue to leave this empty machine open for this phantom laundry owner.
Two hours have since gone by and this laundry is untouched. Now I’m wondering what mad person would leave their clothes and incidentals out for the world to see, along with a full container of laundry detergent. We are in Miami. This person is entirely too trusting. Which means I don’t trust him. Or her.
Cest la vie. I say. I occupy all the washers and dryers in the room. When I return another hour later, I find my things missing from the washer. A lady turns to me as I begin full panic mode and says “oh, were those your things? I put them there” and she points to the dryer. I’m a little put off by this. I don’t want to touch your things, why are you touching mine?
It’s now 2pm, and the stranger’s lonely laundry remains on the floor, untouched, unwashed, and unfolded.
I don’t get why someone would bring something down to a public area just to leave it there all day.