Every day I wake up and it's Sunday
Whatever's in my head won't go away
The radio is playing all the usual
And what's a wonderwall anyway
Seemingly the cat grass, now slightly damaged by the ravenous critters that abide this flat, is doing quite well and is a big hit, at least with the imp. He seems to find it more of a plaything than an actual food source, so let it not be said that humans are the only species to do such.
On a more frustrating note, My tshirt and music box have yet to arrive after more than a month, yet I'm strangely billed for these items. Go figure. Now you'd to think that the postal service has had enough of ruining my mail and packages, but apparently I'm very wrong. At least I didn't lose over a hundred bucks in comics like my friend. It seemed so much simpler to ship them home from his temporary residence in Olympia, but he didn't insure it. The box was conveniently "damaged", the damage consisting of an oddly enough fist-sized/shaped hole in the side of said box accompanied by a more than obvious knife cut through double-layered duct tape and packaging tape (the heavy duty kind, were talking the strings going through it and stuff). A so-called "common" accident. Well, let's see, if it's so common, don't you think you might want to take a look into the cause of said problem before you decide to go hiking up the postage again. Seriously, wtf Postmaster General, or should I call you by your real title, Assmaster Cockmonger. That's right, I know who you really are, you can't fool me.
Ok, so the weirdness has not yet dissipated, it's not my fault, it's yours of course, always is, so stop blaming me. The thrill of the moment was making my first ever international long distance phone call to Scotland. No reason for making except, oh yeah, They've been giving me the run-around for about 2 months now. And let me tell ya, there's nothing better than getting only 2 hours of sleep and waking up at 6 to call a foreign country and get, you guessed it, the voicemail. That's right, my contact wasn't even in the office today, might not be tomorrow. Go figure. But I have decided in my newly acquired ultimate apathetic state, one in which I am motivated by pure malice in all actions for lack of care of anything else, to call everyday this week if I have to. This in conjunction with finding someplace better to live since I tire of this apartment building and the two Indian (non-Native American) families that live above and below me, who during this religious season of theirs have stopped bathing and have been playing loud, weird-ass music, yet the moment my bass goes a lil too loud and vibrates the floor oh so slightly that I can't even feel it, I get people pounding on the door for the music to be shut off. Have I mentioned how much I hate people and public libraries that don't open until noon during the week. But as the imp so aptly puts it, "I will f*** you up!", of course he promptly turns tail afterwards and runs away, but still. He's the mongoloid of the family.