Laundry Day

OK, right outside the barracks room I was in, and next to the weight bench, there were three sets of washers and dryers.  Now, I had arrived with mostly clean clothes, but in a shelter of this size with such a few number of washers, sometimes it pays to wash even a pair of socks, when and if you can. You never know when you will find an open machine.   So, I grabbed the few dirty items I had and perused the line of washers, noticing one was empty.  There was no one around, a large jug of laundry powder was sitting there with the top off, so I got busy.  I added (what I assumed) was the right amount of this clumpy blue powder to the machine, set the load on small, and started the water in order to get the powder to dissolve.  Doing everything right so far, or so I thought.  I relaxed for a moment and stared out the window, wondering what the hell my life had become.

"Hey, what the fuck are you doin?  That's my washer, asshole."  I paused for a second, then turned around slowly to see a short, stocky dude with a snarl on his face, clearly on the edge, holding a net bag of a few items of clothing.  It was kind of surreal.  I thought about what to say for a moment, but before I could get a word out, he said, "get your shit out of there now.  I was gonna use that one."  He punctuated this statement by pointing into the open washer - the only one not in use. OK, well, I have been in situations similar to this, but usually one of us had a lethal weapon pointed at the other, not a net laundry bag.

I stared at him.  "Really?" I said." Well, no one was around, the machine was empty, and the way I see it, first come, first serve."  I was shaking a bit.  "I checked the machines and went back to get my clothes", the other dude said.  "That's the way it goes around here."  "Yeah?  Well, that makes no sense at all."  I was eyeing a ten pound dumbbell about 10 feet away.  "My advice to you is to take your stupid little bag of clothes back to your bed and come back in about half an hour, then my stuff will be done.  In the meantime, shut your mouth and get the fuck out of my face."   I took a step toward him for emphasis, then stopped.  I knew violence could get me booted, and I certainly had no place to go, so it wasn't worth it.  But I WAS going to wash my socks.  "You're an asshole", he said.  "This isn't over."  But I could tell by the look on his face and the way he skulked away, it certainly was over.

This place might pose a few more problems than I anticipated.