Textuality

This requires some back story, but is worth documenting.  My roommate Tasha was going out for supper with her father tonight.  Beforehand she was putting together some loads of laundry, which triggered an "ah-hah!" moment from me, because I needed to wash some clothes as well.  I wasn't sure where the laundry room was, so as Tasha was walking out the door, I asked.

"Oh, you know where the computer lab is?"

"Yeah?"

"Just keep going down that hallway."

"Oh, oh yeah, I know what you're talking about."

So, about a half hour later, I walk down the hallway to the laundry room, which was right where I anticipated it to be.  I noticed Tasha's clothes were done, and was about to put them in the dryer for her.  Being as anal about my mother about the intricacies of clothes, I decide to play it safe, and text Tasha, saying:

Hey, Can everything that was in your loads go into the dryer?

A few minutes later, I receive a reply back:

Take them out right out.  Are my underwear in there?

Oh shoot.  My roommate isn't comfortable with me seeing her underwear?  Shoot, I thought we were past this stage of awkwardness.  Wait, maybe they're special underwear that don't go in the dryer.  Not wanting to dig too hard through her laundry for no purpose, I reply:

I don't know, lol!  Do those not go in the dryer? 

A minute or so later:

no. just put them on your head and smell them to make sure they're clean. 

Not going to lie, my instant reaction was a mixture of "WTF" and confused laughter.  I figured Tasha was just trying to lighten up an already, slightly awkward situation.  I reply: 

LOL!! No. I won't do that.

Response:

Well I want them clean!  Do they have stains on them? 

Here, my brain goes...."erm...slightly funny, but okay, I'll just play along and see what happens."  

Yeah, so I threw them all out the window and got you new ones.  They're thongs that say "sex kitten" on the front. 

Tasha replies:

thank you very much.  Do they match yours?

At this point I realize that there are two washing machines and they both have clothes in them.  I dig around in the load that had been previously ignored, and can't quite figure out if they are clothes that belong to my roommate or not.  So I text her: 

Wait did you do one load or are they both yours?

Response:

Where are you at?

Oh, Tasha's back from dinner and is going to come help me out!  Good.  

The laundry room!

Response: 

Obviously.  Where? 

Getting slightly frustrated and confused, I reply: 

On our floor!  Were both of the machines with your stuff in them?

...trying to get the conversation back to the point.  I don't have an unlimited texting plan, so by now I'm starting to get frustrated over texts being lost via miscommunication.    
 

who's we?

WHAT?!  I start to get upset.  Here I was, trying to do a nice thing for my roommate, and she's not even making any sense.  That question doesn't make sense.  WHAT IS GOING ON.  Miscommunications frustrate me.  

TASHA.  Did you use the laundry room on our floor?  And did you do two loads?  I can't tell if they are both yours. 

THERE.  I spelled it all out for her.

     really?  I did three. 

WHAT??!  Three?  Three what??  THERE ARE TWO WASHING MACHINES.  Am I at the wrong place?  Did Tasha tell me the wrong location? 

I'm super confused.  There are only 2 washing machines? 

SIGH. 

i think your at the wrong laundromat. 

Well there we go.  I'm at the wrong place.  I count the washing machines a fourth time, just to make sure I wasn't being completely stupid.  Nope, still only 2.  I walk around our floor for a couple minutes to try to find the magical "other" laundry room.  But at this point, I'm too tired and too anxious to care much about anything, let alone my roommate's dirty laundry.  I give up and go back to my dorm room.  She can do her own laundry for all I care. 

((Time passes))

An hour or so later, Tasha walks in the door. 

"Hey Tasha," I laugh.  "I think we had a miscommunication...." 

"What?  Oh, about the laundry...?" Tasha half-laughs. 

"Yeah, about those texts..."

"Oh, did you text me?"  Tasha pulls out her phone and starts scrolling through her Inbox. 

Did you text me?

"Yeah, we had an entire conversat-WAIT.  Did you not text me tonight?"

"When?  Did I accidentally..."

"NO.  Oh, oh--for real?  Tasha, did you get a new phone number between this year and last year?"

"Yeah, but I gave you my new one...."

Here, I look through my contacts.  "Tasha" is right next to "Tasha S."  One was the old number, the other one was the new.  I had been texting the old.  Meaning that wasn't Tasha.  Meaning I got played by random-person-with-Tasha's-old-phone-number.  


We had a good laugh over this.