can we turn on the fuzzy bubbles, please?

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dateline: front lines	17 august 1996 8:57 p.m.
Episode IV "Once upon a time, in a lint-filled galaxy far, far away..."
Laundry Wars. They're on. I'm pissed. There are two washing machines and two dryers for my floor, shared by seven apartments. Since everyone seems to do their laundry on Saturdays, I usually do mine on Monday. I rarely have to cross paths with anyone that way -- I learned very quickly that Waikiki residents aren't exactly the "Hi, how are ya" type. Tonight, though, I just got an itching to do laundry. Since that kind of instinct doesn't come often, I ran with it. When I got to the laundry room, both dryers were being used but one washer was free. I dumped in a big load of anything-but-whites, three quarters and a cup of some generic detergent that my mom gets through some Amway-wannabe. Came back and answered a good twenty e-mail messages, then went to check on my stuff. My load was done, but in the meantime whoever had their clothes in the other machine had put them into both the dryers. I growl, but whatever. I left my stuff in the washer and come back again. I answered all my remaining e-mail. I returned to the laundry room. My clothes were on the washing machine. Some rude, nameless neighbor of mine had taken it upon herself (okay, so I've got a suspect) to take my clothes out of the washer in my stead. Leaving it sitting out in a wrinkly wet lump for everyone to see. Like some twisted new-age art piece. Jeans, shirts, a tangled-up swimsuit and some mortifyingly faded underwear. A sock was on the ground, covered with dust. It's not like I was gone that long. Otherwise I'd almost understand. What really bugs me is that I always love to reclaim all the change (and sometimes bills) that come out in the washer. Lord knows how much of my money this hoser picked out with my clothes. A little bit of research (any good war needs sound reconnaisance data) determined that all the other loads of laundry currently in the room (both washers and one dryer) were all from the same festering household. I'm also pretty sure they were also the dryer-hogging idiots that kept me from moving my stuff in the first place. I dumped my clothes in a (finally) open dryer, plunked in two quarters, then plotted. The first thing I did -- which wasn't so clever -- was to switch the water temperatures on the two washers. One to hot and one to cold. Didn't accomplish anything, but it felt good. And that's what matters. Then -- cleverly -- I flipped the other dryer's setting to "cool." No one ever uses that switch. It's off to the side, a small one, and lets you use a milder temperature in case you've got clothes that might melt. Of course everyone knows that if you want your stuff dry in one go, you just throw caution to the wind and stick with "hot." My clothes were dry, on schedule, in 40 minutes. The other dryer -- obviously having had more quarters pumped into it -- was still going. Probably still is. Churning along, pathetically blowing humid air around while a neighbor waits, deservedly, confused and frustrated. Not one of my more shining moments, but it's definitely me.