by Geek Art


 [ 747 ] +

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When I first started my long quest for a BA, I first held residence in the lower-classman dorms. Shitty, dirty, tiny boxes that hold two or more guys, in a building that used the be a shitty, dirty, hotel that probably catered to midnight acts of coitus more than respectable clients. The laundry facilities didn't even have a room; they would just put a washer and dryer in the hallway wherever there was space.

Thing was, the laundry appliances were just as bad as everything else. Most of the washers were OK, but the dryers had a nasty habit of NOT DRYING. I only knew of one working dryer near my room, so I stuck with that one.

One night I was doing laundry rather late. I took a load out of the washer and walked it up to the working dryer on the next floor. It was full. Not a big deal, it had 5 minutes left on the timer, I'll just leave my clothes on the table here and come back in 5 minutes.

I left, and came back in 10 minutes, to find the dryer stopped, but still full. Annoying, but it's acceptable under the unspoken rules of dorm etiquette to remove someone's clothes from the dryer if they leave them in there after its stopped, as long as you put them on the table and not just dump them on the ground.

I opened the dryer, only to see pink and purple satin and white lace everywhere. Damn, not only is it a girl's laundry, there's a lot of underwear in there. I opted to just wait it out instead of risk getting caught in the act of handling some girl's smalls.

I left and returned 20 minutes later; no change. At this point I decided that it's better to just dive in and swap laundry. I reach in and grab an armload of clothes. Maybe it was the headrush from the close proximity to so many lacy things that offset my balance and made me slip; whatever the reason, I wobbled and fell backwards, spilling clothes all over the floor.

I started to rush to pick it all back up, but before I got very far, a girl came walking around the corner straight towards me. I froze with what was probably a terrified look on my face. She, too, stopped, undoubtedly shocked at the sight of a 20-something guy crouched in the middle of the hallway, with an armload of thongs.

Thankfully, it was nobody that I knew. She turned, wordless, and walked back the way she came. I never found out if that was her laundry, or if she was just put off by that terrific scene.