"Oh shit, the laundromat's closed,"

I slapped my forehead. I didn't know if it was actually true - it was only 3, after all - but I wanted to press my luck.

"Jason!" Chelsea shot back up sober, dropping her pillow and giving me the best view of her goods as she was no longer bothered with her nudity, "they're closed on Sundays, too! And they don't open until after the restaurant on Monday."

"Welp, sounds like a problem for future you," I shrugged, trying not to be too entranced by Chelsea's drying and shaking body.

"Jason, this is serious!" she started yelling, "you owe me a new outfit for Monday, at the very least! How could you fuck up so badly?"

"I know, babe," I oozed mock sympathy the best I could, "but I don't know if we can afford anything until then."

"Fuck, man..." Chelsea groaned with exasperation as she paced around the living room, no longer covering up. I wondered how long I could keep this going.