When I was having a long string of dysosmic events in the laundromat, did I need to be hit on by three separate men? I did not. Usually I am Captain Go-for-it where these things are concerned: I will say no politely to polite offers, because that's where I am in my life, but I'm not offended to be asked -- go right ahead and ask, and as long as you're polite, people should be polite in return. But I am exhausted, and I keep smelling things funny, and I was wrestling a king-sized duvet from washer to dryer, and I was the only woman in a fairly secluded laundromat, so was I comfortable? I was not.
And then the dryer started making funny smells aside from the dysosmia, machine-oil smells, so I took my mostly-dry duvet out and ran.
I did not even find $5, so this story can't even be saved with the universal ending of, "And then I found $5." But I did get myself an apple fritter, which stayed an apple fritter the entire time I was eating it, so that counts for something, I suppose.
I'm going to turn down social offers and then go collapse on the couch for awhile. I have more stuff I want to talk about, but, echh, laundromat, bleh.