I bet you’ve been saying….I wonder where that witty has been these last 8 days. Did she finally find some handsome dude off PlentyofNothing? Did she finally win the lottery and decide she doesn’t need to write any more, because she’s happy and doesn’t need a place to kvetch! Or maybe she even got invited camping, since its such a nice time of the year….as in, the last of the heat and the first of the cooler temperatures. Wait, I have pictures…
Ahhhh, doesn’t that look relaxing? A tent set up on a grassy knoll, presumably under a tree, possibly near a fjord. Hey, it could happen, you know with Global Warming and all.
But no. Its not my tent. And if the photo looks a little grainy or pixilated or like it was, I don’t know, shot through a screened window, its because…
IT WAS!!!! My bedroom window!!! Some dude decided to camp under my freakin’ bedroom window at my apartment complex. Like WTF? What is this Yellowstone freakin’ National Park?!? Oy!
I had heard strange noises this morning. Rustling and scraping and popping. I figured it was Garden Hacker Guy out in the yard building a recreation of Devil’s Tower like in “Close Encounters of the Third Kind” or something, since he’s always doing stuff like that. So I tried to fall back to sleep, because I’ve been having really severe insomnia lately and having to listen to scraping and rustling at 8 a.m. just wasn’t doable. So I closed my bedroom windows which face the courtyard and went back to a kind of unsettled sleep. When I woke at 10, Guardcat was staring with great intensity out of the window. Like woo, there’s a kitty igloo being built. Can I go live there?
So I looked down and saw the tent. When I had been hovering in and out of sleep for those two hours I had heard talking. But I always hear talking since Garden Hacker Guy is like the official Greeter for Crazy Central, waiting on his porch until somebody appears in the parking lot and then pouncing on them to talk about aphids. But there had been an extraordinary amount of activity under my window during those two hours, but I couldn’t quite hear what they were saying.
“Yeah, this place was listed in all the AAA tour guides. Great views. Close to the library. Can watch chicks in their bedroom windows at night. Yeah, great spot!”
Although I think I vaguely heard my nitwit landlord talking, since he has this high nasally voice asking somebody something and then the reply was “I got kicked out of my apartment, so I’m camping out.”
Now does that seem fair? Everyone else at Crazy Hilton has to pay $595/mo. And he gets to camp out for free? Of course I have seen rats and skunks running around in the yard late at night, but if the dear lad doesn’t have access to any bathing facilities, they may have more in common than any of us would care to know.
And what is going to happen tonight. A campfire? The smell of burnt wienies wafting skyward. Maybe the sad wail of a harmonica playing campfire songs. Or the retelling of spooky stories about the serial killer scratching at the car door while the girl is hiding in the backseat waiting for her boyfriend to return. I mean, the tent is right under my freakin’ bedroom window. We have 52 apartments here. Why can’t he go camp in front of theirs?
Although if he’s making S’mores tonight, all bets are off. He’ll definitely be invited up…you know, just as long as he somehow showers first and brings the chocolates.