so our roommate took the laundry room key to las vegas. this is what i'm assuming, because i can't find it anywhere, and he was the last one to use it before shipping out westward, ho. this upsets me. most things upset me, really, but this especially upsets me. even more so than the fact that i'm sitting here in wet pants (different story for a different time).

i'm about to trudge off to the laundry mat yesterday with a pocket full of quarters when i notice one of our neighbors outside getting her mail. i've never talked to this particular neighbor before, but i ask, "can i use your laundry key? mine is in nevada." she looks at me oddly for a moment, and at first i think she's going to say no. i'd probably say no to me; who's stupid enough to trust a girl with dead plants all over her porch with their very sacred, lose-it-and-pay-seventy-bucks-to-replace-it laundry key? apparently, this chick would fall into that category. "sure," she replied. "i'll go get it."

i do my laundry- whites, colors, towels, jeans, delicates all in one load. time spent separating is often better spent eating a candy bar or singing along with a billy joel album. i go to return the key, and my neighbor asks if there's anything else i need. she turns out to be extremely friendly, this woman that i've mostly avoided these past 11 months. she tells me her name, the hours that she's normally home, and briefly outlines a list of things she could potentially do for me. lend me the laundry key. watch for packages being delivered. resurrect any dead dogs i might have lying around.

she was ultra nice, and i'm glad i met her. i wouldn't have met her if my laundry key hadn't been in las vegas. but, let's face it, i really wish my laundry key hadn't been in las vegas. what a ridiculous place to take a laundry key, wouldn't you say?