I just put two loads of laundry in downstairs. Air invited us over for dinner and I wanted to wear my new Corner Gas Bad Ass Black Uniform shirt. Wil has the Corner Gas Regular Ass Blue Uniform shirt. I mentioned it on Facebook, but neglected to mention our afternoon in Rouleau SK, town where they shot Corner Gas. Oh, all right, here is a picture, you’ll notice I am wearing yoga pants and a big tshirt, pretty much all I packed, besides the black dress, for what we thought was a short trip for a funeral. Don’t worry, the doublewide has a washer and dryer.

But I digress! I meant to talk about laundry. So, yes, just put in two loads. All three dryers are running. I don’t know what it is, something about the way they are spinning, and the fact that it’s 10:30 on a Friday night, but I have a feeling that these clothes belong to someone who just figures it is so late, they can get their clothes in the morning. You know what I mean. I hate that. I don’t want to touch someone else’s undies, even if they are clean. I think they clothes all belong to the same person because all three washers were set on hot. Which also makes me think it’s a boy. Because, really, you don’t need to use hot all that often. Only for whites, really. The chances of 3 individuals doing 3 separate loads of white laundry seems quite high. So either this person has a shitload of white clothes, or they are not that laundry smart. Boys are usually the ones who do not pay attention to dryer times.

Of course I could be wrong, as the floor of the laundry room is not flooded. You see, if you start all three washers at the same time, they will flood the floor. It’s washer #1 that’s the culprit. There is a sign that says you must wait 5 minutes between each washer start to avoid this. I ignore this sign, as I never use washer #1, only #2 and #3. Whomever washed three loads of clothes in hot water at least must have waited 5 minutes between washer #1 and washers 2 and 3. This implies a certain adherence to rules and common courtesy of communal living.

I admit, I’m perplexed.

I also admit that this is a typical activity, physical and mental, for me on a Friday night. I’m a regular barrel of monkeys.