To anyone who reads this; Sorry I haven't been better with posting. The last week has been a little crazy. With all the overnights for parties both street and block, I haven't gotten to bed before 4 a.m. in 7 days. I am so freakin' exhausted. But look. It's me on stilts!
SO, let's dive right in, shall we? I have been staying at my old place for the last couple nights cause its like a hop'n'askip away from Magic Kingdom, where my overnights took place. I told old landlord that I could be out LAST Thursday, but he's pretty chill and said I didn't need to stress. So I didn't. I mean, I'd already hauled my un-necessities to the new place, but since I was crashing elsewhere, I figured my clothes should be where I was.
Coming back from that tangent. (I want to preface that I was up till 4 last night.) This morning, around 9, my phone seizures. Feeling like I had my head bashed in with an ugly stick, I answer.
"Hello?" I ask I my raspy morning voice.
"Why are you still here?" my angry, british ex-landlord states from the living room. I have a horror movie deja vu. The call is coming from inside the house.
"Mr. Hales? I'm sorry..." Quick think of something. "I just have some things left to pack and I'll be gone by the end of the day." I throw myself in gear and frantically start packing, hoping and praying he doesn't come in the cubicle that is no longer my room.
"That's what you said last week!" He's carefully controling his volume and tone.
"I'm sorry sir. I promise I'll be out of the house by five."
I was out by 12.
So I have officially moved to my new place. It's nice. I'm excited.
1 comment:
From inside the house? I would have freaked.
Glad to hear you're in a better place now, though!
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