Craigslist Roommate: Man, those dishes were old. Old dishes break!

Me: They just broke, in your hands, because they’re old?

Craigslist Roommate: Not in my hands. On the ground.

1. We are “Craigslist roommates”
1a. We are not friends

Given 1 and 1a, this is an absurd request. It’s akin to asking me for help in sandwich-crust-removal or teeth-brushing. Shoe-tying. Being a freaking adult.

Roommate’s excuse was that he just didn’t have time. Unexpectedly, he would have to go to work on Sunday, laundry day, and he had NO CLEAN CLOTHES. “Literally, no clean clothes.” Roommate understood Sunday to be my laundry day, as well (we go separately, not coincidentally) and he’d pay me $7 for bringing his clothes along and do his laundry. I quickly reminded him that my laundromat is open 24 hours a day and that “it won’t be crowded right now.”

And now, I’m the asshole. Craigslist roommate strapped his laundry to his back and biked with it through the oppressive heat while I sat in my air conditioned room and watched videos on You Tube. After working outside all day long, he was made to spend an hour and a half in a hot laundromat, mingling with south Philly’s finest after-hours laundry-doers, and all because I found his request to be beyond the scope of what adults who are not sleeping together should do for each other.

Could I have done it? Yeah, I guess. I mean, I would be going to the laundromat (driving, no less) the very next day. But seriously! He wanted me to WASH HIS DIRTY LAUNDRY. Not go along with him for company. Not give him a ride to the laundromat. DO IT FOR HIM. Hold his hand while he crossed the street. Kiss his boo boo. Tuck him in.

I feel like my life is defined by these moments of, “I’m gonna ask you to do something really stupid and manage to position your refusal as a statement of heartlessness.” Or, more succinctly: “damned if you do, damned if you don’t.” Except, well, I guess I wouldn’t really be damned if I did. I’d just have been a nice guy washing some other dude’s nasty pile of clothes. But I’d definitely be bitter, at the very least.

Don’t worry, though. Karma managed to balance the the situation as I wound up pouring half a bottle of detergent all over me and I washed and dried a piece of gum in the pocket of my favorite jeans (resulting in an hour long “scrape fest”).