Back In Denver For A Bit
So I got off the plane.
I got picked up by a friend.
Got to my apartment complex.
The car was still there, no windows broken, no tires missing, no apparent damage.
Found my keys. Got into my building.
Got to my door . . . why is my door unlocked? Why are my lights on? Why is there a half finished can of Coke on my counter instead of full and in my fridge? Why are all the things from under my kitchen sink on my stove?
There is no note from management about repairs. No phone call had come in previously to inform me of work being done.
I don’t freak out, yet.
Only in to change my clothes, freshen up, and drop my bags so I can go back outside to my friend so we can get some food.
I enter the bathroom . . . why is my package of toilet paper behind the door? Why is the air freshener on the floor? Why is the trashcan on its side? Why is everything that was on top of the toilet back now in/on the sink?
Seriously? Wtf?
I scope out the rest of the apt, and everything else looks in order, I think, but I can’t remember how much order/disorder I left things in.
Whatever, I’m not in Wisconsin anymore.
I’ll sleep on the bed I have slept on since I moved out of my crib, with the same pillow.
I can walk around naked here.
I can record music here.
I have internet whenever I want.
Good enough.
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did you ever figure out what the deal was?