Laundry- The Most Dangerous Game

My internship has continued to be excellent. So excellent, in fact, that we've been talking about things that I can potentially do for them over the school year. Things that they would like to pay me for, even. We'll see if certain contracts come through- but if they do, I might be working on a big textbook project. We had a full staff meeting today to discuss the annual budget- it's the kind of thing that would devolve into eye rolling and stupid questions at many offices, but we had bagels and cream cheese and a delightful discussion about the numbers. I really, really like the people who work with me in the office. 

They took me on a field trip today to a law firm. It was my first time in a law firm, and we were doing a presentation for their "pro bono" week. It was a good presentation and the lawyers seemed very interested in it, so that was a good experience. After the field trip I sat down outside with our executive director to go over some final changes to the major curriculum projects I've been working on for the Institute (that starts next Thursday). A very good day, in all.

That does it for the general life update- I'm writing this post because I need to tell a story.

The story begins with laundry. I needed to do my laundry yesterday, you see, so I loaded up my landlord's basket that David and I have been appropriating and hauled it downstairs (using the worst-elevator-in-the-world along the way) to the sub-basement where the laundry facilities are kept.

I put my clothes in the washer, started it, and left. Thirty minutes later I returned, transferred my clothes to the dryer, and left. All was going very well.

I returned an hour later to collect my dry clothes. As I walked into the laundry room, I gave a customarily friendly head-nod to an extremely large beefy linebacker-type guy who was also in the laundry room, presumably to do his laundry.

He did not nod back.

He did, however, stare at me. I was about to say hi or make a comment to break the tension when he spoke:

"Is this your laundry basket?" He pointed to the laundry basket.

I looked at where he was pointing, looked back at him, and replied: "... yes." I figured that would be the end of it.

"How long have you had it?" He asked. I was not sure where he was going with this.

"... I don't know. A while? I just moved in. Maybe a year?*" I replied. (*I had forgotten that I was using my landlord's basket and not my own.)

"That's interesting. I had a laundry basket that looks exactly like that one- with that broken handle there and that sticker there- that was stolen about a year ago from this laundry room. How long did you say you had it?"

And then I realized that this guy had been waiting. For me. In the laundry room. To seek confrontational vengeance over his laundry basket that had apparently been stolen by my landlord or his wife. Having met my landlord and his wife, this did not seem completely out of character for them to have done- not that they would have meant to steal something, but I can see them just taking a laundry basket and not thinking about it.

"Ah," I said, "When I said it was my laundry basket, what I meant was it is my landlord's laundry basket...." I spent another few sentences convincing him that there was no possible way I personally could have stolen his basket, and then he calmed down. He seemed disappointed that he didn't get to have his big confrontation that he had built up in his head, no doubt since the first moment he noticed his basket missing about a year ago. That's a lot of grudge to harbor. People get very attached to their laundry baskets.

He apologized for accusing me and I told him to just take the basket and give me his name and number so that I could let my landlords sort it out if it was actually legitimately theirs- he could have been lying to me just to get the basket, but I don't see why anyone would go to all that trouble to get a worn-down basket with a broken handle, especially when he could have just taken it while I wasn't down there. If ever there was a legitimate time for me to give away something that was not mine, I think this was it.

He works at a bar and told me to come by and he would get me a drink on the house for my trouble of having been needlessly accused of basket-larceny. Today, while coming home, I saw him walking in the opposite direction. We greeted each other warmly. I think we're friends now. 

Now I have an awkward e-mail to write to my landlord. How should I phrase this? "Hey... did you, by chance, ever steal a laundry basket?" 

I'll figure it out. I'm off to Union Station to meet up with David and Tim for drinks (I had drinks with Amy Reno there yesterday and it was delightful as always) and then going over to Goo's with Josh et al. Should be a fun evening.