Lube and A Screw
So.
I'm in the apartment complex's laundry room doing my laundry, transferring my clean, wet clothes into a dryer when I hear a strange, metal-on-metal clicking/scraping sound. I look into the now-empty dryer and find a screw. Amused, I turn to Lauren and she cracks a few jokes about me having a screw loose. I laugh and reach in to pick up the screw.
Only then, my friends, do I notice the other foreign item in the washer.
It is a smallish, rectangular packet of some sort. I peel it off the side of the washer to give it a closer look and freeze, my heart stumbling in my chest. The packet is a cool, blue-purple in color with bright writing on one side. The writing says:
ASTROGLIDE
Personal Lubricant
The package has been opened and used.
Horrified, yet oddly pleased, I hold up the packet for Lauren to view. Her response (after a brief pause) is as follows:
"Ewwwwwwwwwwwwwwwww!"
We then giggle madly, coming up with various, disturbing scenarios for how the screw and lube ended up in my (MY!) washing machine. I'm convinced that the washer is trying to communicate with me, sending me very sexy little gifts as an indicator of its undying love for me. Lauren, though, seems to think it the act of a stalker or freelance porn-star.
Either way, I'm both freaked out and deliriously giddy about the entire affair.
I'm in the apartment complex's laundry room doing my laundry, transferring my clean, wet clothes into a dryer when I hear a strange, metal-on-metal clicking/scraping sound. I look into the now-empty dryer and find a screw. Amused, I turn to Lauren and she cracks a few jokes about me having a screw loose. I laugh and reach in to pick up the screw.
Only then, my friends, do I notice the other foreign item in the washer.
It is a smallish, rectangular packet of some sort. I peel it off the side of the washer to give it a closer look and freeze, my heart stumbling in my chest. The packet is a cool, blue-purple in color with bright writing on one side. The writing says:
ASTROGLIDE
Personal Lubricant
The package has been opened and used.
Horrified, yet oddly pleased, I hold up the packet for Lauren to view. Her response (after a brief pause) is as follows:
"Ewwwwwwwwwwwwwwwww!"
We then giggle madly, coming up with various, disturbing scenarios for how the screw and lube ended up in my (MY!) washing machine. I'm convinced that the washer is trying to communicate with me, sending me very sexy little gifts as an indicator of its undying love for me. Lauren, though, seems to think it the act of a stalker or freelance porn-star.
Either way, I'm both freaked out and deliriously giddy about the entire affair.