The apartment I rent is currently being reroofed. It’s been a nightmare since day one when the roofers accidentally punched a hole in my bedroom ceiling. It’s definitely made for an interesting week.
My friend Maddie was in my living room changing her clothes when she noticed a man on my balcony. This was disconcerting for so many reasons, but number one being that he wasn’t watching her change. If there’s going to be a strange man standing on my balcony I want him there because he’s peeking in my windows and thinking to himself, “Damn that lady looks hot for 32!”
The noise level has driven my neurotic dog under my bed in an attempt to muffle the noise level. Last night, when trying to coax her out, I noticed she’s been hoarding items under my bed for safekeeping. The stuffed animals and dog bones I understood, but the roof shingles, rusty nails and gum wrappers didn’t make a whole lot of sense. I’m a tad curious to see what other objects the valley winds may blow into my bedroom before the hole is fixed. I’m hoping for a sexy man who cleans bathrooms and pours wine, but I’m worried the only man who could fit through the hole would be Dennis Kucinich. And as much as I love a Democrat in my bedroom, I’d have to pass.