Reason #18972 Why I Should Have My Own Reality TV Show - Day 86

   I really should have my own reality television show. No one would believe some of the crap that I do or the shit that happens to me on a daily basis. Let me give you just one small example of what a ridiculous human being I am. It is going to require you to imagine the scenario as best as you can. If you work the 'mental picture angle' I can almost guarantee a chuckle - even if it's laughing at me as opposed to with me. (Though I admit, I was laughing pretty hard at myself through the whole thing!)
    Okay, here goes:
    I was supposed to have a cooking class tonight, macrons specifically, but it was canceled at the last minute so instead, I went home to do some writing and school work (aka watch Netflix and eat Thai Sweet Chili crisps). I'm chillin' in my bed (and just for the story's authenticity I have to be graphic and tell you that I'm just chillin' in a tee shirt, no pants - as most do while chillin' at home). All of a sudden, out of the corner of my eye, I see something scurry across my "kitchen" floor and dart into the nook behind my trash can. (Let's be honest, my "kitchen" is a sink and a stove-thingy an arms reach from my bed. My apartment is the size of a large walk-in closet! So this 'thing' was friggin' close!)

She makes it look so classy!
I wasn't quite so cute. :(

Clearly, now, I panic.
What the hell am I supposed to do?
Do I pursue it?
Do I leave it be?
Do I not even look and pretend I didn't see a thing?
NO! I would never be able to sleep!
    The answer, of course, is to leap out of bed and look for a suitable weapon. I thought for one second about running to my neighbor's apartment and getting William to do a sweep for me, but I figured Susan B. Anthony, Elizabeth Cady Stanton, & Betty Friedan would roll in their graves and the feminists of today would smite me where I stood (lay, whatever). Okay, so that plan was out!    
     Therefore, I looked for a weapon that I could use to prod back there without getting too close. Is it weird that the first thing I grabbed for was my hair straightener?!? Yup, I went at it with my Paul Mitchell straightening wand. There I am, pants-less, waving my hair straightener in the general vicinity of the garbage pail nook. Cause GOD FORBID I GOT TOO CLOSE AND SOMETHING ACTUALLY SCURRIED OUT! Yeah, very effective. I needed to re-strategize. First part of the new plan, PUT ON SOME DAMN PANTS just in case I needed to flee from my (possibly) rodent infested apartment. Fight or flight? I'll try to fight, until I see a rat, then it's sayonara Mighty Mouse, enjoy my shoebox apartment - it's just your size!
     Are you ready for the punchline kids? I finally grab a knife the size of my forearm and start poking at something that is wedged back there and it is a friggin' chestnut shell that blew off my plate from the counter because of the open window and it rolled under the sink nook catching my eye in its flight. A CHESTNUT SHELL!?! Dear God.
Who'd even believe it?
I need some wine. Like a whole bottle. And I'm losing the pants. Don't judge.