As I walked quickly down the hallway to the laundry room, I realized that I was holding my breath.  Despite the fact that I rarely ever saw any of my neighbors, somehow whenever I went to (read, needed to) do laundry, the machines were always occupied.  Right now there wasn’t a single noise emanating from the room, a few more steps and I would find out whether this was a good or bad sign. 

Adjusting my grip on the basket that was starting to test my upper body strength, I stepped into the quiet room, took a quick scan and noted with an exhale of relief that both the washers and the dryers were blessedly vacant.  Seeing as it was eleven in the morning on a Wednesday, I didn’t feel too guilty about loading up both washers.  Still, I did it as quickly as possible, not wanting to run the risk of facing one of my phantom neighbors.  Just as I was about to close the lid and insert quarter after quarter, I realized that I had one more item of clothing to add, and I was wearing it. 

Taking a quick look around again to make sure I was alone, I reached for the button-fly and hastily pulled it open.  Pushing the jeans down over my legs, they swiftly pooled at my feet.  I stepped out of them, picked them up and dropped the holey, faded denim in and closed the lid.  Reaching for the stack of quarters, I efficiently placed one in each little slot.  Then grasping both coin trays, I pushed at the same time, easily insuring that both machines were running at the same time. 

Ridiculously pleased with myself for this small feat, it dawned on me that I was still standing in my (somewhat) public laundry room in an old, verging on threadbare Beatles t-shirt and a pair of boyshorts I’d been given as a joke gift, but that I secretly loved that said “Bite Me,” across the butt.  Hoping to find the laundry room free this morning, I’d quickly piled my laundry into the basket and as I made my way out of the bedroom, I had grabbed a pair of boxer shorts to put on in exchange for my jeans. 

Looking all around me, the boxers were nowhere to be found.  Rolling my eyes and then giving a piercing glare at the happily whirring machines, I was forced to come to the conclusion that I had accidentally thrown the boxers in with the rest of my things.  As I looked down at myself and what I was dressed in, or rather “undressed” in, my back was to the door of the laundry room as I heard someone clear their throat and ask, “Looking for these?” 

Surprisingly enough, I didn’t give myself whiplash as I spun around and swiftly raised my head to meet a playfully arched brow paired with the sexiest smirk I’ve ever seen since, well, no I can honestly say, that is the sexiest smirk I’ve ever seen since ever.