So I was just returning from happy hour, thinking about how amazing it is coming home to my own little studio, everything just the way I left it and noone to answer to but myself...
And this is what I walk into: shattered glass all over the floor. A picture had inexplicably fallen off the wall, a picture that has hung happily for four months with no issues, now suddenly on the ground. I stood there staring at it for about two minutes, and came up with three possible explanations:
1. There was an earthquake. This is San Francisco, its totally possible. 2. My upstairs neighbor, who has a penchant for stomping around, usually between the hours of 6:00 am and 7:00 am, got a little overzealous doing...whatever it is he does up there. Zumba? Capoiera? 3. I have a ghost. I'm not really ok with this explanation, and I don't have any sage or psychics handy so lets consider this a highly unlikely explanation.
Now I have a fucking empty space on the wall, which is totally noticeable and annoying. Also, even though I did the best job I could sweeping the floor in 4 inch heels and with 3 drinks in my system, I'm not entirely confident that I got every single shard. So what if I get up in the middle of the night to pee and step on glass, fall down bleeding, and my cries for help are not heard for days? Will anyone even wonder where I was?
I've really loved living alone thus far...I can watch Hannah Montana and order pizza and play dress up and sing dramatic renditions of "Careless Whisper" as much as I want. Not that I do any of those things. I'm just saying, they are things that I could do if I wanted. My point is, I've never felt scared or lonely once since I moved in in March.
I'm not going to let this strange little incident change that. All I'll say is, to my friends, if you haven't heard from me in a few days...just call me, k? And if I don't answer, come check on me? K thanks!!!