For the love of all that is good and holy, why, Why, WHY is it when some guy walks by and you are taking your clothes out of the dryer, either your most hideous garment or your sex-say-est one decides to make a run for it and hurls itself onto the floor right there for him to see?
Then, of course, you spend the rest of your time with your eyes cast downward in humiliation while he leers at you from across the launderette. Well, it could be worse, I suppose. The masher could pick the garment up off the floor and hand it back to you.
Just once, I’d like to see a pair of Robert’s Calvin Klein tighty-whities do the happy dance across the floor right about the time some guy walks by.