memoir

so i haven't left for my run yet because i'm surrounded by terrorists... or at least an active imagination. technically, all i know is that i'm locked in my room. or i've locked myself in my room. i heard something fall downstairs so i opened the door, then there was a huge crash boom bang kapow. i slammed my door, locked it. and now am telling you.

i rang my roommate and she's out at the mall, she didn't hear the noise.

i rang my running partner and she didn't hear anything next door.

so now i just have to wait it out. i know that the stove is out of gas, but i looked out the window and the gas tank is still there, hasn't exploded... there are kids outside, it might be fireworks. naw, they are probably at my door now using a discarded bobby-pin to pick the lock. wish me luck. or bid me adieu.

moral of the story: lock the front door or you'll be writing your memoir from under your bed... without any coffee