This morning, thank god it’s over.
My honey and I live at a busy intersection, our bedroom is directly on the street and last night I woke up to so much craziness caused by one extremely effed up dude. This huge drunk white guy was stumbling in and out of traffic, threatening people, attacking a few good samaritans, napping in the sewer grate in the street. After he followed some people up their steps, to tumble out again in the middle of a slug fest, the cops finally showed up to arrest him. Overall pretty entertaining to watch BUT this meant we were wide awake for hours in the middle of the night. And I work on Saturdays.
Fast forward to this morning, I’m groggily putting on my makeup when my honey tells me he missed a call from ADT, the burglar alarm service at my shop. I freak out because yesterday I locked myself out of my shop, but decided all was okay because my alarm was set and I had spare keys at our apartment. Apparently, I was wrong. I DIDN’T LOCK MYSELF OUT! My shop was unlocked ALL night long! So some unwitting customer tried my doorhandle this morning (despite the closed sign) found the door unlocked and set off my alarm.
Fortunately we live a mile from the shop. So I hop in the car, pull up to two lady cops waiting for me, confess my total dumbassery to them, thank them profusely for their speedy response and open shop. Cashdrawer, computer, everything untouched THANK GOD.
After catching my breath, I realize ADT phoned my honey, but not me, so my contact info is probably outdated. I login to correct it only to experience that horrible stabbing pain that hits me unexpectedly every goddamn day because everything in my life is connected to my dad. My main emergency contact for ADT is still my dad. My first thought, of course, is that I must correct the spelling of his name. These gut impulses that no longer matter are so brutal. So brutal. When exactly is the date that this too shall pass? Does anyone know?
Today’s bangles: two Sobral resin bangles, one repaired by yours truly, and my ugly bangle covered by a pink Hermès twilly.
Apropos of nothing, here’s a good song. Remember Le Tigre? Do they make music still?