the picture above is the cryptic message i came home to yesterday. it seems the pest control man has been in my apartment. instead of leaving the common “someone’s been in your house” signals like, drawers pulled out, papers strewn about, he has the audacity to leave a note. almost like the cat burglars calling card, but with far less class than a long stem rose or some sort of tiny crystal animal statue. the thing that truly strikes fear in my heart is his future plans. it’s obvious that he plans to come back. You can see this in the “……” instead of a period. it’s almost as if he’s staring me in the eye, and without blinking he says to me, “your move, mr. bullard.” for now all i can do is sit in my apartment and await hsi next venture into my humble abode. that, and set up paint cans on ropes triggered by the door opening.
i refuse to believe it’s only 1:12. You’d think if you tried to sleep through the day, you’d have little of it left…but alas i am stuck with hours to kill. i could play halo, but i don’t want to. it’s supposed to be this great game, but i’ve yet to see what about it really impresses people. the only thing that is keeping me going is the fact that other people say it’s good. sort of an entertainment peer pressure. at each new chapter i say to myself, “maybe this one will have less of those annoying, whiney aliens.” and then it has more of them. and as much as i don’t want to play it…i’m going to end up playing it anyway. ladies and gentelmen, the trials and tribulations of my life.