Up too early on a Monday.
Important personal items have been going on vacation right and left. My cell was on Jenni's counter the whole time, so that disaster turned out just fine. But sometime last night my keys took their leave, and I really think I'm a bit screwed on this one.
I did a whole mess of laundry yesterday. The apartment of my dreams is mine! So I hauled all my crap over Saturday afternoon. All the people who said they would help with the process conveniently didn't show up at Cosmic's, imagine that. Victor was here, though, so he made things go very fast and smooth, for that man is a damn powerhouse. I think my mom has a crush on him. Everything smells like garage, so I washed it, right?
Right.
Did laundry, got hosed out of my night off with this new schedule rearrangement thing, spent a rather frustrating ten minutes attempting to make a phone call to the wrong number, but Cetius is psychic or something. I had my keys in my pocket the whole damn time, since I didn't have arm space for a purse. (I really did impress myself with my carrying abilities yesterday, which was a little bit cool. I'm big and tough, so eight loads worth of towels, sheets, curtains, and clothing are no match for these muscles.) When I got to work, I stuck my keys on the ledge under the counter, for that is their resting place.
Last night was stupid slow, slow, slow. Really salted the whole "I'm not even supposed to be here!" wounds. I had one customer, and that was Gimp Dog Dan. I'm trying like hell not to jump to conclusions and make baseless accusations, but if I know anybody who would lift my keys and sneak into my house, it's that guy. Knowing him, he would also spooge all over my mattress and install a few cameras. Considering that I found his big fucking boot print in the mud by my steps, I am having a VERY hard time not assuming the worst. I also wound up sleeping at Cosmic's, so I'm cranky in general from camping out in a booth between closing and opening times.
Maybe I'm wrong, that would be nice. But if I'm right, shit is seriously going down. No mercy, plenty of damage to testicles, and a restraining order.
It's wrong to jump to conclusions, so I keep searching everything again and again and retracing my steps again and again. I even went through the garbage bags. My building manager will be up and moving soon, and then I'll call her. At least I have all my clean clothes over here, so I can change before work.
So yeah, definitely not freaking out over here. No, sir, not me. Not freaking out at all.
I did a whole mess of laundry yesterday. The apartment of my dreams is mine! So I hauled all my crap over Saturday afternoon. All the people who said they would help with the process conveniently didn't show up at Cosmic's, imagine that. Victor was here, though, so he made things go very fast and smooth, for that man is a damn powerhouse. I think my mom has a crush on him. Everything smells like garage, so I washed it, right?
Right.
Did laundry, got hosed out of my night off with this new schedule rearrangement thing, spent a rather frustrating ten minutes attempting to make a phone call to the wrong number, but Cetius is psychic or something. I had my keys in my pocket the whole damn time, since I didn't have arm space for a purse. (I really did impress myself with my carrying abilities yesterday, which was a little bit cool. I'm big and tough, so eight loads worth of towels, sheets, curtains, and clothing are no match for these muscles.) When I got to work, I stuck my keys on the ledge under the counter, for that is their resting place.
Last night was stupid slow, slow, slow. Really salted the whole "I'm not even supposed to be here!" wounds. I had one customer, and that was Gimp Dog Dan. I'm trying like hell not to jump to conclusions and make baseless accusations, but if I know anybody who would lift my keys and sneak into my house, it's that guy. Knowing him, he would also spooge all over my mattress and install a few cameras. Considering that I found his big fucking boot print in the mud by my steps, I am having a VERY hard time not assuming the worst. I also wound up sleeping at Cosmic's, so I'm cranky in general from camping out in a booth between closing and opening times.
Maybe I'm wrong, that would be nice. But if I'm right, shit is seriously going down. No mercy, plenty of damage to testicles, and a restraining order.
It's wrong to jump to conclusions, so I keep searching everything again and again and retracing my steps again and again. I even went through the garbage bags. My building manager will be up and moving soon, and then I'll call her. At least I have all my clean clothes over here, so I can change before work.
So yeah, definitely not freaking out over here. No, sir, not me. Not freaking out at all.