Well, I decided that I was going to try to get out of the house last night, and (despite the questionable legality of the scenario) get in the car and just go somewhere.
But, with the sheer luck that is this weekend, the car wouldn’t start. Of course.
I’m making this sound negative, but it really hasn’t been. I did some cleaning today and had a knock at my front door… where C.’s phone was finally delivered back to us.
Oh, you don’t know that story? Here: C. was fixing this girl’s car (which turned out to not actually be broken because the guys at the shop she went to lied to her), and left his phone in her car. Only problem? The only way he knew to contact her was her phone number… which was stored in his phone. It’s been about three weeks or so now, and he had gotten a prepaid phone in the midst of hoping that she’d find the thing and try to get a hold of him.
Yes. My boyfriend officially started carrying a drug dealer phone. It worked for a while (though really, those minutes are crazy expensive), but we didn’t know how much longer it’d be able to pan out. Thankfully, she brought the phone back today (and asked when C. would be back, because her car’s acting up again), with only one glitch: it is soaked in perfume.
I’m not talking about an “oops, a bit of my perfume landed on the phone” scenario, but a “hey, this phone just took a nosedive into a bottle of Miss Dior Cherie” (at least, that’s what I think it is)… and the screen’s all warped.
But the phone’s back, which is really the big thing… and I’m eating some unsulfured Turkish apricots with peanut butter that I brought back home from Washington. As far as snacks go, this is one of the best.
AND… only one more day of home alone-ness. I suppose I’m getting used to it… but I’m running out of vodka, and I have no car. A girl can only be alone so long sans alcohol.