Dear Superintendant; It's supposed to be a secret that you don't pay to do laundry. It's not. You use your little key, open up the coin box, and flick the little switch as many times as you need to. No big deal. I don't care. I guess you deserve some compensation for occassionally throwing a handful of salt on the front steps.

So today you put something in the dryer. No problem. I put my load in the washer and waited. And waited. And waited. No problem. I'm not going anywhere. We all have to share the one washer and dryer. Finally, two and a half hours later, the dryer stopped. I waited a few minutes to see if you were going to come take your load out. You didn't. So, like apartment dwellers everywhere, I took it upon myself to remove your clothes from the dryer. But when I opened the dryer I found ONE PAIR OF THIN COTTON SHORTS.

What the fuck, Superintendant? What? The? Fuck? Was it really neccessary to take up the dryer for two and a half hours on a Saturday for something that would have dried in 15 minutes? But I guess if you don't have to pay for those two and a half hours of drying time, you might as well get those shorts good and dry, right? I'd complain to the landlord about you, but apparently you've got pictures of him blowing a donkey, because complaints about you never seem to generate much response. Next time you pull that shit, I'm opening that dryer every 15 minutes, and as soon as your shit's dry I'm taking it out and putting mine in. I could use some of that free time myself.

---must be nice...

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