Monday I went to Old Navy and they had lots and lots of clothes -- greater than a size 12, that is. Seriously. Everything I looked at. And larges and above, and apparently I am a medium at Old Navy, still (thanks Old Navy!), in addition to being an 8 or 6 (thanks again, Old Navy! Irrational as it is, it makes me feel better) in pants/shorts. So many 14's! So many 20's! Really! Why don't they stock less 20's, and more 6's?
But then there was this one style of tank top that had plenty of mediums left, so with a "huzzah" I brought one to the changing room, and it was too small! Which is why there were hardly any LARGES left of that style! Why did everyone else figure that out, too? Bastards.
Yesterday I did laundry. Dear God, why do I wait so long. I haven't done laundry since Easter weekend. I brought up an ENTIRE basket full of wet clothes that needed to be hung or laid flat, so that they don't shrink so that my belly doesn't stick out from under my shirt. There were shirts hanging from every possible hook-like object in my apartment. It looked like a futuristic fabric-draped casbah. And the laundry room was PACKED! Those bastards, why don't you do your laundry on the weekend? And we have these super big industrial (not really) -sized washers, and they were all taken! They're NEVER taken!
There's a clock in the laundry room. There used to be one, and then it was gone (stolen, I guess. The wheelie laundry baskets seem to disappear, too. Fucking kids), and now there's a new one. It's screwed to the wall, for security purposes I suppose. Which is unfortunate, since it seems to be set six hours and forty minutes too slow. HOW CONVENIENT AND USEFUL.