I have to admit, I live in a creepy-ish neighborhood. I've seen blood droplets trailing across the outside pavement of our apartment complex. There is a lot of yelling. A lot of sirens. A lot of . . . mistrust between neighbors.
So, naturally I was a bit frightened. I sat on our couch in my p.j.'s silently praying that the angry thumping would subside. Minutes passed. Soon the thumping turned into shouting, "Open! Open up! Open up the door!" Mr. Anonymous yelled. I refused--continuing to cower in our dimly lit family room.
After about five minutes of this, Mr. Anonymous finally yelled, "Oh, sorry. Wrong apartment!"
(FYI: He was not forgiven)
My name is Chelsea, and I am a procrastinator.
The first step is admitting you have a problem, right?
Did you know it's midterm? Because I didn't even realize this until this weekend. Crappy.
So, in the next two days I need to write two essays, prepare a class presentation, and study for a test.
I am awesome.
Currently, Mista T. is killing people via Modern Warfare 2.
I put dinner in the crock pot a few hours ago. The recipe said it would be enchiladas . . . but I don't know what the crap it actually is. It looks more like chili with some tortillas shoved in it. Hopefully it'll be delicious.
I feel like I have a lot to say right now, but I really must get back to my homework.
We'll talk later.