Offended At Dawn

A nightmare has burned into my brain forever, and I fear I will never sleep peacefully again.

6am, I wake up to use the facilities, my bathroom is detatched, so I actually have to walk out of my apartment to get there. I'm super sleepy and cranky, so I just kind of take my time in there playing madlibs as I deal with nature.
When I walk out, guess who's standing in laundry room? The one and only Music Hating Chest Hair. fuck. The last person I wanna see when I'm in my jammies. But wait: HE'S IN JAMMIES, TOO. And not just any old jammies, he's in a shorty robe. A beige shorty robe. The ultimate paradox. On one hand, beige is the most uninteresting, unornamented, sad color ever. On the other hand, a shorty robe is the most man-sleazy, perverse, Hefner thing a dude could own. Just as I was about to vomit from this sight alone, I rub my eyes and look closer and see him folding MY laundry that I left in the dryer the day before as he whispers "Good morning".
First of all, he's handling my goods. YUCK. When someone leaved their shit in the machines, I just take it out, and set to the side. I don't do anyone a "favor" by fondling and folding it. That's not neighborly. That's creepy. Second, he whispered "Good morning", as if not to wake the baby or some shit.

So here's the militant music hater standing in his ball exposing robe, folding my stuff, and whispering at the crack of dawn. Was it all just a bad dream?
Nope. When I went back out later, my clothes were in a neatly folded stack that I had to wash again because I puked my goddamn guts all over them.