If I Should Die Tragically at a Young Age...

Don't make an "In Loving Memory" rear window decal and stick it on your car. This is not how I want to be remembered.

Also, do not go to a mall kiosk and get an airbrushed t-shirt made with my face, the dates of my far too short life and angels floating around.

As a 26-year old single person with no dependents, I have no will, but believe me, when I get one drawn up, these will be legal stipulations. And if, after I die, I look down (or up, depending on how things go) on you and see my name on the back window of your Tercel, I promise I will haunt you until the end of your days.

The Curious Incident of the Mouse in the Night Time

There was a note on the door of my apartment building when I got home from work last night saying there would be a mandatory inspection of each apartment today.

I think I might have an idea why. It seems there's a bit of a mouse issue in our building, and I for one am happy that they are finally going to figure out what's causing it. I know it's not my unit, because I spend far too much time cleaning to have a mouse problem. And the ones that are there just seem to be passing through and not booking an extended stay.

My suspicion is that crazy dead dog lady is behind the dirty apartment that's inviting the rodents in. I've never seen her place, but I can't say there is a pleasant smell coming from it when I walk by...and then you factor in the whole dead dog event plus my experience last weekend with her, and I'm thinking maybe she doesn't quite have it all together.

Anyway, this mouse investigation can't be done soon enough after my unfortunate run-in with one of the visitors last night. While cooking dinner (ok, I was warming up leftover idiot-proof-dinner-in-a-bag in the microwave), I was tidying up the kitchen a bit. I picked up my Homer Simpson pot holder and was about to hang it on its wall hook when I noticed it felt a little heavy. I squeezed the finger end and a mouse appeared at the opening. He was kinda chill, like, "yeah...can I help you?" I screamed and dropped the pot holder on the floor, and the mouse made his get-away.

And if this maintenance inspection doesn't eradicate the problem, then I guess it's up to me to begin the full-on mouse assault. I won't settle for the "nice" mouse traps this time, it'll be snap traps. Not the sticky traps, the last thing I need is a three-legged mouse bleeding all over the place.

Crazy Dead Dog Lady

Yesterday I woke up at 6:45 because I was expecting someone from Comcast to install a DVR box, and I was told they would be there any time between 7 and 10 a.m. Of course they're not going to show up at 7, but I thought I should get up just in case. He didn't get there til 10:45, and I was so bored I actually watched 3 episodes of Full House. The ones where they go to Disney World.

Anyway, my equipment was installed quickly and with no major issues to deal with. It looked like all the rain in the area had a chance of missing Baltimore, and that my football game would actually happen. No luck - we had a half hour downpour that canceled all games. So I just parked on the couch for the rest of the day.

I was watching Celebrity Fit Club when there was a knock at my door. Since there is no peep hole, I cracked the door open to see who it was. It was the crazy lady who lives downstairs. Let me give you a little background on this character.

I don't know her name - I've ever gone out of my way to learn it, and she's never asked me mine. She's made comments to me before, usually complaining about the mailboxes or the laundry room or something similar. One time she made a snide remark about my being a lonely single because I was home on a Tuesday evening, and I chose to ignore her. When I first moved in last July, I noticed that she had a morbidly obese dachsund, and she often let it wander around outside by itself. In downtown Baltimore. On St. Paul Street. Anyway, I noticed that I hadn't seen the dog in a while, but there was also a mysterious box sitting on the curb in front of the building (now referred to as the "Box of Fright"). In late July, it gets quite steamy, and after a few days, the box had a bunch of flies buzzing around and it was....leaking...something. And it smelled really bad. I poked the top of the box off to see what was inside, and it was a garbage bag wrapped around something that was in the shape of a fat dachsund. You can see where I'm going with this.

Anyway, so crazy dead dog lady asks me if she can use my phone because she locked herself out of her apartment. So of course I dial the emergency maintenance weekend line for her. They said they'd be out shortly, and she went away. 10 minutes later she knocked on my door again, asking me if her phone rang. Confused, I asked if she left her phone in my apartment, which makes no sense because her phone was locked in her apartment. No, she wanted to know if my phone had rung, because it sounded like her phone...which also made no sense. I kind of stared at her for a minute, trying to figure out what she was getting at, and then she left.

She came back again another 10 minutes later, not asking if she could use my phone, but instead telling me she needed to use my phone. So I let her, then sat back down to watch tv. While she's on the phone, I hear a rustling sound and I turn to see her taking candy off my coffee table. I didn't realize candy I kept in the privacy of my own apartment was communal to the entire building, but whatever. I didn't argue. Once she finished eating my candy and talking on my phone, she left, and the maintenance guys finally showed up to let her back in her apartment.

And I'm going to see if I can get a peephole installed.

Confession

I went to Radio Shack a few days ago to buy a cable and snuck a Canadian penny into my payment. :-O

The Things You Do When You Live Alone

I'll confess something: I watched Saved by the Bell this morning while I was getting ready for work. It was an episode set in 2003 where the graduating class watches a video from the old Bayside Class of 1993 gang where they recount their favorite memories and share treacly nuggets of knowledge about staying friends forever and how "high school is the best time of your life." (gag.)

Anyway, my favorite part of the episode is that the "Class of 2003" is dressed just like kids in the Class of 1993. They didn't even try to guess how teenagers would be dressing 10 years in the future. And the only thing different about Mr. Belding was that he wore a stick-on moustache and a little bit of grey color was combed through his hair. Real believable.

I think what's more embarassing than actually watching Saved by the Bell is me analyzing it and looking for logic. I should really know better than to do that by now.