I live in an apartment building that is currently undergoing construction. The actual apartments are pretty nice, but all the common spaces and the actual outside of the building looks horrible. Imagine a Spanish style home, but if it were made with balsa wood and papier-mâché and painted with a color probably named “orangina” or “it’s fine”. I am woken most days promptly at seven a.m. when it seems the construction crew is double-dutching directly above my bedroom. This morning, though, I wasn’t jostled from my sleep until about eight–the first weird thing.
I slowly rose from my bed and went on Facebook. My brother and I were releasing an EP that we’d recently finished and I was certainly ready for the world to hear what we’ve been working on. I invited my friends to the EP’s release, made a witty status that is, at this point, still underappreciated, and went to cook some breakfast. All normal things so far. Then I went to do the dishes and clean up the kitchen a little bit. I turn to my right and casually flick to the hot water on. Imagine the fake sound humans make when they are trying to represent gushing water–that is the sound my kitchen faucet made. That sound in no way is a good sign. I run to the bathroom, “Maybe this is just a kitchen thing?”, I think. NO. It’s not. I’d already put my towel in the bathroom. I needed to shower this morning. No water was to be found.
I did not handle this well. I was immediately anxious. It was nine a.m., I needed to shower now if I were to keep my incredibly leisurely schedule of being ready to leave the apartment at 11:30. Let it be known, I do not actually take this long to get ready, it is more a reflection of how much time I waste when getting ready.
So, I call the property manager, Genesis* (*name has not been changed), and there is no answer. GENESIS, WHERE ARE YOU, WHY CAN I NOT SHOWER AT AN ABNORMALLY SLOW PACE?! So, I call my apartment management office. They tell me to call Genesis. I call Genesis. Genesis still does not answer. I call my apartment management office. They call Genesis. They call me. They tell me the water is out for the next few hours. OH, UH, OKAY. Second weird thing.
Well, I eventually make it out the apartment, having showered, because apparently god smiles on the unwashed, and I head down Olive Ave. in Burbank. My drive to work includes beautiful sights including Warner Brothers Studios and a moving velociraptor. WHAT. YES, THERE WAS A MOVING, ANIMATRONIC VELOCIRAPTOR ON OLIVE AVE. It was slightly in the road so it was not only visually distracting, but I had to deal with the anxiety of potentially killing off an animal that has been extinct for millions of years. Talk about stressful. Third weird thing.
I pull up to where I work. Suddenly I hit an obstacle. Some demon has parked directly in front of our driveway. Why, you ask? Oh, probably because the devil has taken hold and he wants to prevent everyone from any sense of punctuality. Fourth weird thing.
I get an email from my brother and he sends me a lead for a job that I desperately need. I email this person right away, which is weird since I’m doing it from my internship, but does not make my list of weird things today. I get an email in response pretty hastily and I schedule a call for later today. Fifth weird thing is that this person has a name I’m unsure of how to pronounce. Is this a test? Will I only be hired if I’m able to pronounce it correctly?
I’m walking into my building after parking. A squirrel throws a nut at me. Sixth weird thing.
I get home, grab my purse, run back to the car because my friend and I are getting chicken and waffles for dinner. AMAZING. I get a call from a friend who I haven’t talked to in a little while and she’s also on the other side of the country, but she has a job lead for me. It’s a job that people would remove their left arm for, were both arms not needed for the job. There’s maybe a 1% chance I’ll get this job, but this morning, there was a 0% chance I’d get this job. Seventh weird thing.
I go to a delicious dinner, drive home, and am ready to snuggle up on the couch, watch some bad television, write, make some cookies, drink some coffee. I grab the handle on the door to my apartment. It does not open. I try about fifteen more times. There is a woman on the sidewalk who believes I am a clinically insane individual and have no right to be at this building, let alone inside of it. A man walks up. We share the experience of being locked out of our own apartment building. There is no one to call. As we know, Genesis doesn’t even answer during business hours. THANKS, GENESIS. The construction crew that is generally ruining my life is preventing me from my cookies. A couple walks up and tries the door, as well. All four of us stand and stare at the door and reminisce about the good times had in our apartments which we pay for. Suddenly, a gift from god. A man who does not speak English, but does have a tiny yorkie who he needs to walk, swings the door open and we are granted our wish. Eighth weird thing.