Veritable Everest of unwashed linen had been festering by the washing machine in the garage for the last few weeks. Finally, Flatmate Jacq and I decided it would not be a silly idea for us to pop down to the local laundromat and get everything done in one fell swoop. Thus, Saturday, that's what we did.
Took a seat beside Jaq - the owners of the laundry had kindly provided cushions for the plastic chairs - and started to read about Jennifer Aniston's anguish.
Was interrupted by a male voice, 'Um, scuse me, I think I left my laptop down here. Have you seen it? It's got a cover on it...'
Terror seized me and I leapt six inches. The cushion on the seat was not a cushion at all, but a plush laptop cover. He grabbed it from me. MORTIFICATION.
'Ohgodohgodohgodohgod...' and a few anxious moments later, the guy in question opened his highly expensive looking Mac BookPro, and it sprang to life. Thank. Fucking. God.
'How much do you weigh?'
I told him, not mentioning the obligatory 3 kilo buffer.
'I am an anaesthetist you see, and I would have thought about 66 kilos actually.'
I laughed, apologised again, still utterly utterly morto. If I had broken his applemac because of my garganuatan arse cheeks, I would have booked myself in for some lipo immediately. I am sure he could have administered me the anaesthetic.