Yellow

Sometimes I wonder how on earth such an assertive woman like my mother and a confident man like my father ever raised such a wimpy woman like myself.

One of the guys that lives below us came to our door at the beginning of winter asking us if he could pay us to use our washer and dryer in the basement. He only has a bike and it was a snowy winter so we said, sure. Our arrangement was that he would use the washer and dryer on Sundays so that all my stuff would be out of there and that he would pay us $5 for each time he used them. Well, he didn't really pay $5 every time, but that wasn't a big deal to me. It's not like we're doing this to make money. We were doing him a favor. He's still using them now, even though it's spring, but again, not a big deal. Then the past couple of weeks he's been using them on days other than Sunday. He's left his stuff in the washer and dryer and I've had to move it over in order to use my own machines. It was annoying, but I didn't say anything. Then, today, a Tuesday mind you, he moved my clothing over from the washer to the dryer in order to use the machines.

I found my nice Anthropologie dress with the silk trim in the pile on top of the dryer. He did not look at the tag on that rather expensive dress before just throwing it into the dryer. And it's not even his day to use it! I called my mom so, so mad and she told me I had to go talk to the boy and ask what he was going to do about it. That's an expensive dress and it's not like I can afford to replace it.

I gathered up all my courage and outrage and walked down to the front door. I rang. The other roommate answered the door. This threw me off. I was expecting to talk to the perpetrator of the "crime." Instead I told the roommate the situation and asked if he would please tell Andrew that I needed to talk to him when he got home. Then the roommate said, "Oh! I moved the laundry over for him. I'm so sorry!" I had no idea what to say to this turn of events so then I said (and this is where I totally let myself down), "Well, accidents happen." Then I started to cry just a little bit from frustration, and confusion, and surprise. So then he said, "Let me give you a hug." So the guy that just ruined my dress gave me a hug. A hug! I had no idea how to get the conversation back in the right direction so I left. Ack! I'm such a big wimp.

PS. Luckily I came back upstairs and worked a little on the dress and it looks like it'll still be OK. The silk isn't as pretty as it used to be, but it's not really "ruined" anymore. Man I'm such a wimp.