I'm trying

I realize it's been, um, like two weeks since I attempted to start blogging again. I'm sorry. And now that Rougeneck has gone and LINKED to my non-existent blog on her super awesome blog, I feel ashamed. And pressured. But that's good, right? I guess I'm motivated by shame and pressure? Hmmm. Moving on.

SOUR: I came home today to find one of those horrible door hangy things at my apartment. Notice I did not say "on my doorknob," because it wasn't. It was lying on the ground beside it. I looked at it and it was all like, "You haven't paid your gas bill so we're turning your shit off, sucker!" I thought this must clearly be a mistake as I have my gas bill on my counter and it's not due till July 19. So after I had to make an emergency run to the Big K (I know, right? I had no idea they still existed but there's one pretty close to my apartment. And just FYI, Big K still smells like all Big Ks I've ever been in), I called the number to the gas company *just to be sure.* The last thing I wanted to do was wake up to no hot water, you know? Cause all the affirmations and attempts to be positive in the world wouldn't make up for that shit.

So I called, and long story short, when I signed up for the gas they got my address wrong. OK, OK, maybe I should've noticed this when I got my bill, but honestly, I looked at the date it was due and decided I didn't need to think about it for a while. Anyway, turns out the gas in another apartment has been in my name, and no one's been on record as paying for the apartment I actually live in. I know. So after 33 minutes and 29 seconds of being on the phone with the gas peeps, the woman told me it was all worked out and they'd be sending a guy over tonight. My first thought? "Fuck, I'm going to have to put on pants." I don't know about yall, but when I come home from work/errands/whatever, I am DONE. My ensemble as of late has been a bathing suit cover-up. Judge me, I don't care, it's one of the joys of living alone.

SWEET: The guy showed up about 20 minutes after I got off the phone. He was all, "I'm with the gas company." I bit my tongue and resisted saying, "Really? I thought that shirt with the company name was just a new trend." Anyway, he pointed to the balcony and asked if the hot water heater was out there, which it is, and then it hit me: The door has been locked since I moved in. Never fear, dude busted out a screwdriver and broke the hell in. Fine. By. Me. I tweeted, "Hot water is more important to me than any legal situation." Which is not entirely true, cause murder and rape and other assorted illegal sundries are not trumped by hot water, but for effect, that is what I tweeted damn it.

So remember when I said "long story short"? Apparently I lied. Bottom line: the gas is back on. Also? He left the door unlocked, and there's some prime storage space. The SOUR part is that I tweeted about that, and @slowittedbanker (#FF, yall!) replied that he'd taken advantage of the water heater/storage situation once before and it led to all his stuff getting wet. So the jury's still out on that one.

The lesson learned here? Check and make sure your address is correct on your bills. Do not avoid the door hangy things (by the way, those things are the utilities equivalent of the scarlet letter). And when a man with a screwdriver is on a mission, nothing can stop him.

Thankfully.