Did I Miss Again? I Think I Missed Again, Uh-Huh.

Did I do an update at all yesterday? I didn't even look to see.

Today's post will be a little bitchy, to be sure. Had such a shitty afternoon yesterday that it's "carried the one" into today.

In honor of the faboo Phil Collins, I will type to his tunes today.

Yesterday, I went for a little run after work. Aimed for a 30-minute kick-ass sesh, and then upstairs to get ready and head back out to meet co-workers for a little St. Pat's revelry. Grabbed my keys and stuffed them in my moisture-wicking jog bra, not even looking at them. Out the door I went.

When I was finished with my little fun run, I dug around in my sweaty bra to pull out my key. Yep, grabbed the wrong damn key. As the sick feeling sunk in, the piss clouds began to gather.

Walked over to J Patrick's to see if they'd let me use their phone to call my building management company. Of course, I don't know their number off the top of my head, so I needed to look it up. They didn't really offer much help. Guess this means I'll spend a little less time and money at their establishment, even though they are mere doors down from me. On over to 5-Star where Raquel was a shining angel. Raquel whipped out her laptop and tried to help me look up JS Huron, my management company. Then, she offered her cell phone to try to 411 them. Fuckers aren't listed. What dicks.

The crap icing on the crap cupcake here is that the only phone number I know by memory in this town is Mike's. The only person who has my spare keys is Mike. Where is Mike? Mike's in Aruba, where we were supposed to be together on vacation. Before we broke up. So, I got to sit on my stoop and think about that for a cool 3 hours yesterday.

As I sat, I tried to think of a plan. I thought of a few, and all of them were mapped and then consequently aborted in my head. One plan I executed was climbing my fire escape to try to break into my window. My fire escape is pretty rickety, and I am on the 4th floor of a walk-up. Once you pass the 3rd floor, you hit the ladder level. So, here I am, climbing a rickety, rusty ladder with shaky muscles from my run. Thank God I have had a Tetanus shot in the last few years. I was sure I was gonna die up there, staring at the ground and the shaky ladder. As I climbed onto my half-landing and backed up to the window, I remembered that I'd had it fixed. Yep, it wasn't coming open. Back down the ladder I went.

During all this madness, I was buzzing every apartment in my building. There always seems to be someone around. All of us have weird comings and goings, so someone had to be there. After buzzing a good round of 5 for each unit, I then buzzed every 15 minutes for 3 hours. Guess no one was home.

Waiting for 3 hours is boring shit, people. I had to busy myself or I would lose my mind. I picked up every piece of trash from our building lot. That took a good half hour and was totally disgusting. I think the kids in our neighborhood are dealing drugs in our lot, because I found lots of tiny plastic bags, one even imprinted with the Superman logo. Isn't that designer acid? Jesus. That's good news.

I watched all sorts of people cross our lot as a shortcut. Something that chaps my hide, since I know they are the a-holes dropping all the trash on their way through.

I watched some birds play and wondered if they were friends.

I watched the trees above slap into each other with their naked branches, and delighted in the happy clicking.

I watched neighbors coming and going, some walking their dogs in the beautiful weather, while Minnie Pearl was upstairs, trapped in my apartment with my keys.

And then. I watched the dryer vent doors swing on. Someone was home in our building. The whole time. And didn't let me in. I ran over to the basement windows and started banging. I knew they were in there. Saw the basement door open and close through the window, and banged on that, shouting for someone to come out and let me in. Nope. That's one committed a-hole in there.

This is why I committed years ago to never fall prey to Bystander Syndrome.

At this point, the piss clouds weren't just drizzling anymore, they were full-on cumulonimbus.

When a neighbor finally came to my rescue, I was hellbent on finding the traitor inside my building. Funny, no one answered the knocks on their doors. Thought of leaving a nasty note on the dryer, but control prevailed.

With all that time to stew, I was out of control, and my plans for the evening were ruined. I sat in the dark for a bit with a bottle of red and waited for Paty and Marisa to come to my rescue and talk me down. Thank God they did. I have some really good friends.

Dark times indeed. This girl needs a vacation. Good thing she's getting one tomorrow.