I have a cold, and have spent much of the past three days in my PJs. I change out of them when I need to go to class, and then change back into them the second I re-enter the house. The days pass in a blur of “wake up, then DayQuil-DayQuil-DayQuil, then NyQuil, then go to sleep, wake up, and repeat.”

In addition, I have my period. Or as E calls it, “I’m having a bad week.”

However, my apartment building did just receive a washer and dryer, so that’s pretty great. It’s even on my floor – extra convenient. So now I don’t need to go to the laundromat or to E’s house to get laundry done.

Incidentally, E loves doing laundry. He Loves It. When we first became friends, I very quickly started ribbing him about the fact that about 50% of the times I’d call him and say, “So, what are you up to?” the answer would involve doing laundry, or folding laundry, or waiting for his then-roommate to get her laundry out of the washer, and so on. It’s something that everyone who knows him well teases him about.

One day it occurred to me that if E and I ever live together, some of our chores will get done double-time, and some not at all, because we share the same likes and dislikes. We both love laundry, like dishes, sweeping/vacuuming and kitchen cleaning, and hate bathroom cleaning. And since I am basically a nine-year-old in that I say whatever occurs to me, when it occurs to me, I said to him, “E. If we ever live together, we are going to fight over doing the laundry, and we will have disgusting bathrooms! What will become of us? Nobody will want to visit!”

He took about two seconds to think this over, and then said, “I will clean the bathrooms. Don’t worry; people will still want to visit.” And this is why he is a much, much better person than I am.