Those of you who read my status updates on the twitterbookthing know
that Wednesday is my usual laundry day. It makes me feel a little like
some kind of decrepit husk of a person to have such a thing, and
furthermore to realize that it's generally the only thing I have to
talk about on Wednesdays, but I've come to my peace with the fact that
I am not now, and probably have never been, a particularly interesting
person.

And but so, this most recent Wednesday, I locked myself right out of
my car immediately on getting home. And as my house keys are on the
same keyring, I was also locked out of my house. Which, no worries, I
think to myself, I have auto club, they'll send the asshole with the
slimjim over and Bob's your uncle. I did not count on the fact that it
would take TWO HOURS for them to send someone. And furthermore that my
housemate would be completely unable to hear my pounding on the door,
or the doorbell, or eventually my wailing, anguished cries for the
entire TWO HOURS. In temperatures rapidly approaching 0C. Outside.

This was not a fun night.

So on finally getting indoors, thawing my toes, putting on all the
blankets I could wrangle, and thanking Eris that I didn't catch
pneumonia, I was in no mood to do laundry (remember, I was talking
about laundry here. Pay attention, there's a quiz(1)). But no worries,
laundry day is more of an ephemeral concept than an actual day, so I
just postponed it to Thursday.

And lo and behold, Thursday night, I see the note on the washer which
I present here, as evidence that there is no just and loving deity
overseeing the universe. I also saw, now set aside, a previous note
mentioning that the person who owns the house had found the washer
overloaded to the point where the door wasn't closed properly. Someone
had scrawled a hasty apology at the bottom of this note. Clearly they
did not learn their lesson.

And so it goes.

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1. There's no quiz.