Saturday, September 20

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A Series of Uncomfortable Events, Pt. 3

It's Monday morning. I'm up early, and I'm not expecting to see anyone else. So after my shower, I see no problem skipping down the stairs to the laundry room in my towel to grab a clean pair of underwear from the clothes I've just dried. I prance off to the dryer singing Taylor Swift and jump about half a foot. 

There's a boy. We stare at each other like two deer in the headlights, and I am suddenly acutely aware that I was singing "Hey Stephen," in that slurred, early morning kind of way. Panicking, I yank open the door to the dryer, grab the first pair of undies I can find - unfortunately bright and lacy, as if this wasn't weird enough already - and scram. 

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Hopefully I won't see Awkward Boy for quite a while. 

Tuesday morning. I'm leaving my room to shower wearing my towel and balancing my toiletries skillfully in the crook of my arm. I open the door right in the face of ... Awkward Boy. He gives me the same startled look and hurries away while my shampoo bottle falls to the ground with a thud. 

Fifteen minutes later, I've finished my shower and am heading toward the door of the bathroom. I am, for the third time that day, wearing just my towel. I open the door, turn left into the hall and, once again, run straight into Awkward Boy. I jump, he jumps, my shampoo bottle jumps out of my arms. 

I can't lean over to get it without dropping the rest of my toiletries. Instead, he does, and hands it to me while maintaining eye contact with my bottle of conditioner. Thank you, Awkward Boy. You're welcome, Towel Girl.

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