How laundry room conversations should go

Lady: Thank you.
Me: You're welcome?
Lady: Aren't you the one who folded my clothes and underwear for me?
Me: ...no.
Lady: *look of absolute horror* Oh.
Me: Yeah, if there are clothes in the dryer, I just wait, I don't touch them.
Lady: Oh. Well then...so, how are you?

This took place about two years ago in the basement of our condo, but I just thought I'd share since I was on the topic of laundry room conversations.

It's one thing to take someone's clothes out of the dryer if they left them there and you need to use it. It's quite another to go folding underwear. If I found out someone in the building was touching my underwear, I'd probably have a cow. That's just the neurotic side of me.

I'm not quite sure why she was ok with the thought of me folding the underwear, but freaked out about others possibly doing it. We lived on the same floor, although in separate wings. We'd sometimes convene at the elevator, where'd she be taking her dogs out for a walk and I'd most likely be on my way to do something extremely suburban, like going to Starbucks. We'd chit chat, with her doing most of the talking, about random crazy people in our building. But if we ever actually exchanged names, I don't remember. Because I just referred to her as "Dog Lady" because of the two HUGE horse-dogs she owned and loved to death. We were cordial because we were neighbors, but we were by no means on an "underwear folding" level. But it is apparent that she felt more comfortable with me than I was with her.

And there was obviously someone in the building who was WAAAAAY more comfortable than the both of us.

I asked her a few weeks later if she ever figured out who folded her underwear and she said that after asking around, she discovered that one of the sweet ladies on the 2nd floor did it. So that mystery was solved.

Now that Dog Lady has moved out, I kind of miss those elevator conversations. But at least I haven't had my own folded underwear predicament. Yet....