Two stories from my boring life

Story the First
I got out of bed around noon today. I went to sit at my computer and burn some music to CD. Not more than three inches from my hand was a ladybug. A yellow ladybug. A yellow ladybug, overturned so her legs were waving in the air. I'm fine with right-side-up ladybugs; sometimes they're cute, and when you smoosh them they're stinky. This one was upside down. An upside-down bug is the second scariest thing in the world (first scariest: a spider in any orientation). Bugs' undersides were not meant to be seen. I shuddered just now, thinking about it. As soon as I saw this ladybug, I stood up, knocking over my chair, and shuddered. I went to go sit on my bed for about 45 minutes while I watched Curb Your Enthusiasm and some MST3K shorts. I came back over to my desk, and the ladybug was right-side-up on my tube of chapstick. The horrors of bug belly were still haunting me, so I returned to my bed and continued to watch MST3K. Another 20 minutes later, I saw the ladybug was sitting innocently on my knitting knotebook. I carried the notebook to the bathroom and used an empty toilet paper roll to brush the ladybug into the toilet. Burial at sea is the most honorable death this ladybug could have hoped for. I told Talia that if we were still living together, the ladybug would have been her responsibility.

Story the Second
Yesterday I noticed that the real estate company that owns my building had put a note on my door; it said that people would be around in the next few days to inspect the smoke detectors and the furnace. Today I got out of the shower around 1:50. I was in my bedroom, clad solely in a towel. I heard a knock at the door, followed by unlocking and opening. Two men's voices were discussing something. I figured it was the inspectors from the real estate company. The people employed by the real estate company have a history of opening doors without knocking. I had a dilemma, not knowing which would be worse: to be caught in a towel, or to be caught half-naked in the process of getting dressed. I quickly grabbed a pair of pajama pants and a sweatshirt, stood right next to my door, and threw them on. After about 30 seconds, I heard the door close, and the men's voices stopped. Newly clothed (yet still lacking underwear), I knocked on Jessie's door. Turned out it was just the Pita Pit delivery guy talking to Bob.

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