as i sat on the toilet trying to work out a shit, i heard a knock at the door.
it couldn't be a delivery man because i have already re-directed everything to the new address.
perhaps it's the mailman with a surprise delivery. but no... the mailman never knocks twice. and whoever was at my door does.
i left my work half-done and i wiped quickly. as i was trying to wrangle my pajama pants back up over my hips and re-adjust the ratty towel on my head, i heard keys in the lock.
i pulled the door open and saw the office manager.
"oh... no. you're not hear to show the apartment, are you?"
"yes, but we can come back."
"well, i don't think it's going to get much better. it's a total mess."
so he came in with a male of some variety while i quietly went back to my desk for the 1.5 minutes they spent surveying dust bunnies, bedraggled belongings, dirty underpants, and a pile of dried out cat kibble vomit while 70's soft rock from mesquite school radio played in the background. i thanked the gods that i had packed up the condoms and k-y yesterday afternoon and prayed there wasn't a snotty/bloody kleenex sitting out somewhere.
i was so close to not having this day come.
after they exited and i hung my head in ultimate shame, jim croce whispered: you've got a friend.