The Peeper

Last night I dreamt I was awake, wandering around the house listing things that needed to get done but not doing any of them. It sounds kind of lazy, but it was actually really tense. Every time I’d think I should get started on something or write something else down, I’d suddenly find myself in a completely different room thinking of a bunch more things that needed to get done. I finally snapped out of it when I noticed that my bathroom was too clean.

On the one hand, it’s nice that my bathroom was at least nicer and not more filthy in my dreams. On the other hand, leave it to me to accept hours of endless wandering and memory loss but know instinctively that a clean bathroom is too good to be true.

And then a stranger saw my bush.

I was minding my own business, checking my email in a bra and nothing else (like you do). When all of a sudden there was a head in my window. My second story window.

So I said “oh shit!” and stood up. And then I ran away. I have no idea if he looked, of he’d already seen, or if he had no idea I was even there at all because I was already booking it back to the bedroom.

It would have been really nice if my shitty apartment management company had left a note or something in regard to the dudes that were (finally) coming to fix the rest of the siding, which I mentioned has been partially scraped off for weeks now.

And I made the same mistake later when I walked into my bedroom while I was taking off my shirt and found him in my bedroom window. Sooner or later,  he’s going to think I’m trying to send a message.

Anyway, it’s been a long, hard working day. The kind of day where you stagger into bed at night and all you can do is throw the dog toys on the floor and try not to puke or pass out as you write your blog for tomorrow.