Thursday, September 09, 2004

Home Alone

Home Alone

Well, call me psychic but I was competely on the ball yesterday when I said the rest of my day was going to suck... I just had no idea exactly how bad it could suck! After cleaning up the boss man's slop and later his afternoon tea (never mention this practice directly to me, as I am pretty sure my reaction will be most unpleasant), I trekked on thru my day of doing, well... pretty much nothing. I decided to put in a late afternoon call to my boyfriend from college to alert him to my arrival in his city. It took me approximately 12+ hours to gain enough courage to make the call and although I was shaking like Julia Roberts pre orange juice in Steele Magnolia's, I managed to dial the number, only to find out from one of his roommates/brothers that he had moved to Conneticut for the summer. Now at this point a quarter of me is relieved, a quarter of me is sad, and the remaining half is down right pissed that he not only took my advice and moved to Conneticut (which by the way, I wrangled by asking his brother if he could move in with him in the first place), but he has been 3 hours away for months and not once bothered to call. I reside in a little thing I'm going to call "closure denial". With the end of this phone call came the end of my work day. It was still raining profusely outside and I decided to throw on my flip flops and walk home (as the subway had not proved a fun experience in the morning). I had managed to make it one whole block when the marble curb became like ice to my flip flop (Mrs. Todd really should have included wet marble in her warnings about wet leaves being just like ice). If you have ever had the pleasure of ripping off a toenail, then you know just how bad if fucking sucks. I'm pretty sure there is no greater pain, other then perhaps an ill temperatured bikini wax!

I made it home only to realize that my door was no better off then when I had left it in the morning. I bought a fancy tool at the hardware store and began to shave every edge I could manage. Lo and behold, the problem is not the door as much as it is the "saddle" (I have been made aware of it's offical name after much complaining this morning) and some sort of metal piece afixed to the underneath of the door. This is not a problem easily solved by the likes of me, even though I did graduate from the same college as the esteemed Richard Dean Anderson. I decided my only option was to leave the door ajar, so as to avoid calling my Super in the morning asking for her to run at the door full speed to release me. Throughout the night I received a knock from a man alerting me that my door was open. This prompted me to worry for my safety. I quickly wrote down a note of the man's particulars (I believe I mentioned his seemingly "beady eyes"). I wanted him to be held accountable just in case anything should happen throughout the night. I've been watching 4 solid days of CSI and I'm pretty sure I know how to catch my own killer with the right precautions premortem. After I put the note in an inconspicuous location. I stewedged a chair just so under the doorknob so that I wouldn't make it quite so easy to reach my fruits. I then grabbed my trusty hammer and took it to bed with me. It must be said that this is not the preferred hammering I usually like to take place in my bed! I thought about other options to secure my safety and though it was probably likely that if I slept in my jeans, he, the rapist, might just have as hard a time getting them off as I seem to be having getting them on lately. I tried my best to figure out just what Kevin McAllister would do in this situation. All I needed at this point was a paint can and a string and had I had a cutout of Michael Jordan I would have afixed him to strings and made him dance around with my other cut out people all night. My plan was simple, the chair would alert me to the intruders arrival, at which point when he had reached my stairs I would jump to the foot of my bed, which knock down my bookcases on top of him, which I would then walk on top of him weilding my sturdy hammer and run to safety!

Say it with me:
"I'm gonna give you to the count of ten to get your ugly, yellow, no good keister off my property."


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