Hm. My phone rings with "Let me In!" as the name. The apartment box is calling me. That's... nifty... Maybe John locked himself out... he's not that dumb, uh... I dunno, friends?
Nope. Apparently it's the postman asking what the name of the person in 309 is.
Azur---er, Andrea Papka.
Yeah, but she's having her mail forwarded so...
Yeah, she's moving but still able to get stuff at the apartment.
Okay, well the stuff not to her I'll return to sender then.
Oh...
*click*
My shirts! Nooooooo! I guess it might be something else - no, because my everything is still going to my grandma's and John's just got the unemployment which shouldn't be sending him anything anyway since he doesn't exist.
Fan-fucking-tastic. I so need super cognitive training, so then I could have been like, "The name of the person in 309 is Andrea Papka, I'm Stephanie Lukas and am looking after her affairs while she transitions her personal and financial situations to her new locale. Any and all packages I will be able to obtain. Thank you." Oops. Well, dearest John your elusive shirts might still be there, maybe. If you want them you'll have to face Mr. Man with the suspicious glance and accusing words. Otherwise we'll have to wait until Az gets them back and then pay her for shipping. To like.. our actual apartment. Or my grandparent's which would have been the smart thing to do in the first place. Oh well. Just another hiccup in this road.
Monday we are going to look at apartments. We are moving as soon as possible and getting all the drama behind us. Then you are going to get a job and have money and I'm going to get a loan - or it might be too late for starting in the fall and I might just not have school anyway. So then we'll have some money and things and happiness and joy.
Le sigh.
Breathe.
He said "Let me in" on the thing? Wow...blunt much?
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