To the colleague in whose office I accidentally left my gym bag:

Don't look in the bag. Trust me, there's nothing in there you need--unless you've been concealing a serious sweat-sock fetish. I had a really good workout this afternoon, so everything in that bag is saturated with sweat and whatever my towel soaked up when I dropped it on the shower-room floor.

I wish I could drop by and pick up my gym bag this evening, but I didn't realize it was missing until I got home and found myself wondering why I was standing in the laundry room gazing at the gaping mouth of the laundry hamper but unable to feed it. What's missing from this picture? Gym clothes, which are in the gym bag, which, for some unknown reason, is not in my hand.

I mentally retraced my steps to try to track down the bag: did I leave it in the parking lot? In my office? Somewhere in between? That's when I remembered that I had stopped by your office to ask a burning question regarding faculty governance just before leaving campus. I recall setting my gym bag down on the chair and then moving it to the floor, where it's probably still sitting.

Left unattended, my dirty sweaty stinky gym clothes will eventually evolve into a festering mass of disgustingness and stink, creating its own ecosystem and manufacturing disease spores by the millions. Here's my advice: step away from the gym bag, moving slowly so as not to alarm the incipient microorganisms that dwell within. Place the oxygen mask firmly over your own face before assisting other passengers with their masks. Do not--repeat, NOT--open the bag.

Unless you're doing laundry tonight anyway, in which case, it's all yours.