I’d clearly make it as an international spy

People are always asking me about my roommates and honestly, I can’t tell you a thing about them. Seriously, I don’t even know their last names, or even how to spell their first names.

I don’t even have their numbers even though I offered them mine and they took it…is that like roommate rejection? I didn’t think it’d be that big of a problem until coincidentally enough today on the bus to work I began to wonder if I turned the stove off. Cue the inner panic that’s rapidly mounting when I realize our fire alarm is of course disabled and oh god I’m gonna come home in 8 hours to a whole apartment complex of smoke and ash and why do I not have my roommate’s number?? Don’t worry y’all. The apartment’s fine.

But anyway. One of the things my roommates like to do is lock the deadbolt on the door so I can’t get in even if I have the key. Normally this is okay because I just ring the doorbell and they open the door and we’ll exchange our one word of the day (“Hi,” or sometimes even “hey!”), unless their friend is there in which case then we can start talking. Is it weird that I’m better friends with their friend than I am with them?

Sidetracked again–the bus rounds the corner on the ride home and I see my lovely, lovely apartment quad standing there so beautifully unscathed by any sort of fire that would result from a silly, careless girl who left the stove on. and then because my brain hates me I begin to wonder if maybe my roommate is dead (too morbid?) from carbon monoxide poisoning and maybe it’s one of those things where the fire is contained and I’ll open the door and BOOM, you know like in the movies? Does this even make logical sense? Someone let me know.

I feel the door, and it’s not hot–good sign, right? It won’t open though, because it’s been locked again from the inside since I left. Initial joy that my roommate is not dead inside is quickly replaced with annoyance after waiting for about 30 seconds…she’s taking a nap and can’t hear the doorbell.

I scout the area. The balcony railing looks climbable, even though it comes up to my chin and there’s only one notch like thing for me to put my feet on. But I watch too much Jason Bourne and I think I can do it.

The chair we keep out there is on the other side, which slightly annoys me. It’d be so much more convenient because then I can just step down efficiently and gracefully instead of potentially falling down. A few jumps and a couple of squashed bushes later (sorry) though, I’M IN (albeit in a very inefficient and ungraceful way).

Because I then realize I could have just climbed the other side to use the chair.

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