Around 5am, I woke up in an unflattering and uncomfortable state. So, I reached over to put my phone on the shelf next to me. But, in my sleepy haze, I accidentally dropped it. The problem is... in the North End, apartments are tiny, therefore rooms are also tiny. My bed is pushed up next to built-in shelving, so there's next-to-no space between the shelves and my bed. When my phone fell, it was like a golf ball going down the last whole on the mini golf course. I was sure it had gone away forever. I had to get up, move my bed a couple of inches to the right {where it automatically touched the other wall} and attempt to find my phone {which I needed to wake up for work.} Again, at 5am.
In the THIRTY MINUTES it took me to find the phone {picture me constantly swearing and crying while in the process} I also found the following items that had dropped into the scary pit of death:
- three empty bottles of Smart Water, one half-empty one.
- old bills
- Glamour magazine from August 2009.
- thousands of Q-Tips
- two bottles of nail polish remover
- two 10-lb free weights that I thought I had lost, so I had already bought new ones
- SO MANY SHOES.
- a birthday present I bought for my dad last year and couldn't find
- My Clueless DVD. {I was really missing that!}
- a plain white t-shirt I had been looking for
- broken picture frames
- scripts for several different productions of shows.
- the cat, Edith.
- a white belt, that I don't even understand why I had bought in the first place
- the OTHER set of free weights
- a sheet set and a pillow case {how I lost those without noticing is beyond me}
- a bottle of lotion
Moral of the story? Clean your room. Even the scary cave-like parts you never want to go near. Also, get your shit together, Patty. Stop drinking on a Monday.
1 comment:
If it makes you feel any better, I'm a 33-year old married mother of three small children and it took almost 3 hours to clean my room the other night. I found two of our four cordless phone handsets...all completely dead and in desperate need of quality time with the charger. Is it any wonder my older children feel indignant when I ask them to clean their rooms? *sigh*
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