No, you are not losing your eyesight --- this is, in actuality, me in a drier. I exceeded the 80 pound limit but still made it cozily inside. Waiting for laundry to dry is not the most thrilling thing, especially when you have already read this month's issue of Martha Stewart Living cover-to-cover, the juice in your laptop runs out, and there is a baby crying and squirming while her mother speedily loads 9 washers full of a months-worth of dirty laundry. So, Katie (my roommate) and I kept ourselves entertained. I admit, not the safest form of merriment activity, but I came out with no harm done; unless you count weird stares from fellow-laundry-doers.