Three minutes left in the spin cycle.

He bellows through the door. Tall. Maybe six-and-a-half feet. A hulking ginger.

"Looks like they're remodeling around here."

"Yep." I don't look up from the pile of towels I'm folding.

"Maybe they'll add some more washers and dryers."

"Maybe."

"How much longer on that one?"

"Almost done." I bend down to unload pillowcases and sheets. I catch a glimpse of his socks, pulled shin-high under slip-on sandals. Both stamped with an A&M logo.

"Lived here for long?" he asks.

I'm not one for small talk. And I don't know how to politely explain that to a grown man in an authentic Fightin' Texas Aggie football jersey with matching maroon shorts. So I turn, grab my makeshift laundry bag - a duffel with a giant Longhorn monogram - and reply with one foot out the door...

"Have fun in the SEC."