When Murphy calls

It's always the same. The one morning I sleep late (because I didn't fall asleep until 6:00 in the morning, thanks to my persistent and determined insomnia), roll out of bed and don't shower or get dressed (or brush my teeth or comb my hair or even, for that matter, put on pants), ignore the dishes in the sink left over from my mad, inspired baking of the night before, plop on the couch wearing only underwear and a tank top, turn on Maury and prepare to spend an hour drinking an iced latte and watching crap TV, someone knocks on my door.

And it turns out to be my landlord.

*insert expletive*

What to do, what to do.

1. He knows I'm home, because my car is parked out front, he can hear the TV, and let's face it, I never go anywhere.

2. Even if I put on pants, my hair is still a mess, I'm still not wearing a bra, and my house is still a pig sty.

3. I'm pretty sure he won't wait in the hallway for me to shower, blow dry, and clean the kitchen.

4. If I don't answer, he will either assume a) that I'm avoiding him for some reason OTHER than the fact that I'm slothful and unkempt or b) have been the victim of a homicide.

CRAP.

I go WEEKS without anybody stopping by. In fact, I've gone MONTHS without anybody stopping by. And yet, I get up every single morning at the same time Dan does, shower, get dressed, clean my house, and make myself presentable. EVERY SINGLE DAY.

No one sees me from 7:30 in the morning until 8:30 at night, when Dan comes home. By that time, I'm back in my pajamas, my make-up is smeared, my hair is a mess... but you know what? I STILL DO IT. JUST IN CASE. BECAUSE YOU NEVER KNOW.

Except for today.

Murphy's Freaking Law.

Seriously.

So of course, I took the coward's way out. I didn't answer the door. I talked myself into a hissy-fit, insisting that if he was going to drop by, he should have called first. I am under no obligation to answer my door to ANYONE. In fact, I got all up in arms with myself and started muttering under my breath, "Knock on MY door in the morning without calling first, expecting me to just BE THERE to answer it AT YOUR CONVENIENCE... I don't THINK so, Mr. Man... *grumble grumble swear words*"

(Also? I figured that if they called later and mentioned it, I could say something like, "Oh, I must have been in the shower! I'm sorryyyyy!")

Two hours later I was still sitting on the couch, still in my tank top and underwear, still unclean and unconcerned, when he knocked on the door... again.

Well, FUCK.

Now I was really pissed. Who did he think he was, just dropping by for no good reason in the middle of the week? Seriously, if it was that important, why didn't he call first? RUDE.

I was not answering the door on principle. (Really... it had nothing to do with the fact that I still hadn't moved, bathed, brushed my teeth or put on pants in two hours. Honest.)

A short time later, I got a text message from Dan. It said, "Why aren't you answering the phone?"

Me, texting back: "No one has called."

Dan: "I've been calling all morning. I sent the landlord over to pick up the receipts for the work I did on his car. He said you weren't there."

I picked up the phone and turned it on. Sure enough, no dial tone.

What the fuck? I thought.

And then I noticed... Somehow, the phone had become unplugged from the wall, God only knows when (come to think of it, no one's called in a while... hmmmm).

SHIT.

Now I just look like an asshole.

I HATE when that happens.