Laundry

I hate doing laundry. It's not that I hate the chore itself--it's actually not too bad. I hate doing laundry because I believe there's a 98% chance that I will be murdered in the laundry room.

You see, the laundry room is somewhat isolated. The path involves a poorly lit descent by staircase into a dirty hallway. I say dirty because it really is dirty--the ground is covered in grime reminiscent of that which accumulates in gutters during the street-sweeping off season. This hallway is freely accessible to anyone who wants to venture down there, and it's pretty well secluded. And dark. The perfect spot for a rape or murder.

At the end of this basement foyer thing is the door, which does lock. The only problem with the lock is that it's tricky to open from the inside, particularly if you're carrying anything (it's a two-hand job), so an escape from a potential murderer/rapist hiding in the laundry room would be unlikely.

The laundry room itself isn't so bad; it's well lit and all. But there is another room attached to it with no door that is usually dark. Flipping the light switch reveals a room, about 10'x12', with nothing in it. Again, a good place for a murderer/rapist to hide.

Tonight's experience was especially horror flick-esque because, for some reason, a good deal of steam was pouring into the basement hallway from a vent, making it impossible to see into the corridor. Seriously, I thought tonight would be the night.