Mike stripped out of his clothes while waiting for the webpage to come up on his computer. He shook out his shirt, sniffed the armpits and hung it back up on a wire hanger in his closet. After pulling on some shorts and a tee shirt, he checked the nearly empty bottle of detergent to see if he had enough for a load of clothes and rummaged through the change on his dresser for quarters.

He wandered back out to the living room and saw that the web page had finally loaded. In bold black letters was the following directive: "LET'S GET STARTED. FIRST WE NEED TO SPEED UP YOUR INTERNET CONNECTION. PRESS START IF YOU AGREE." Mike thought about it for a moment and clicked on the start icon. Immediately he heard the familiar grinding noise as his computer started the laborious process of downloading the program from the website. He got up and started brewing a fresh pot of coffee and retrieved a cold beer from the refrigerator. He got back just as the program finished downloading and he clicked on the install icon.

While the computer was running, Mike gathered up a load of dirty clothes, the last of his laundry detergent and enough change for the washer staggered out into the Florida sunshine. The heat and humidity combined to soak his clothes with sweat as he struggled to the laundry room. Inside was no better because someone had stolen the small a/c unit that had been stuck in the window and the complex management hadn't bothered replacing  it or sealing up the gaping hole the thief had left behind. Mike glanced grimly at the useless soda machine, the door hanging open and the inner lights off. Anything that was left over in there was hopelessly warm and he wasn't sure he wanted to drink it anyway.

He started his laundry and debated whether to sit in the stifling room and babysit it. There were no chairs and the rickety formica counter for folding clothes clearly wouldn't support his weight. Since his day was already wasted, Mike picked up a ratty copy of The Watchtower magazine, hopped up on the washer his clothes were in and started reading about the heroic struggle of the Jehovah's Witnesses as they strove to overcome the constant persecution, humiliations and discrimination that they were subject to from the cruel "Christians and Others" of the outside world.

After leafing through the magazine, he picked up one of the ultra-conservative Christian comic books that had been left behind. He looked at the graphic illustrations of people choosing the wrong path and winding up in the flames of hell as their friends who had made the correct choices looked down in pity from heaven. Sighing in exasperation, Mike threw both leaflets into the battered trash can at the end of the washers and transferred his laundry over to the dryer. It was then that he realized he hadn't brought enough change with him. Cursing himself, Mike stalked out of the laundry room and almost ran over a petit brunette carrying three laundry baskets piled high with clothes.

"Pardon me, I'm so sorry, I didn't see you," he said as he bent down to pick up the clothes that had scattered everywhere.

"No, that's okay, I can get those," stammered the brunette, "it's all my fault."

"No, really," insisted Mike, "I didn't realize I didn't have enough change for the dryer and should have watched where I was going." He held the door open for her and was rewarded with a smile of thanks for his effort.

Mike smiled to himself as he jogged back to his apartment for change. By the time he had returned to the laundry room, the girl was gone and all the available washers were chugging along. With a sigh of resignation, Mike deposited his change into the dryer and grabbed a seat on one of the washers as he waited for it to go through the cycles.