Romeo spent the hours around lunch fighting with the washing machines. Rather proud of himself for only turning half the whites gray -- and for having the patience to keep from tugging the sodden clothes out of the dryer too early -- he carried the laundry bag of clean clothes up to his room, dumped it at the foot of his bed, and called it good before turning on his laptop.

( And then he wrote an email home (that, not so coincidentally, looked much like a linkdrop) )

The door was open.

[OOC: Oooooopen.]