Posthuman Blues

I need to do laundry but I'm one quarter short. Damnit. I suppose I could ask the cute girl down the hall* for one, but she might read that as evidence that I just want to talk, and I really do need the quarter. And if I did ask her -- assuming she's even home at the moment -- I'd probably feel obligated to talk, since I don't exactly see her everyday. So she'd definitely think the bit about the quarter for the laundry machine was a ruse, and I certainly don't want her thinking that. I mean, yeah, I'm weird, but not stalker-weird.

On the other hand, I have a mounting pile of laundry that requires mechanical attention. And to be honest, doing some laundry right now would actually make me feel productive. Or is that just the sublimated urge to talk to the girl down the hall messing with my mind?

*Yes, she has a boyfriend.