guitarzero132

[guitarzero132]

Holdin’ On: The Five and a Half Year Retrospective

It’s been a long time. How have you been? I’ve been mostly great, doing whatever it is I do. Figured it would be interesting to come in and look back at what all’s been going on since this blog went dark following the Great Moving Out of 2015.

The Me

It’s been alright. Moved away from the Holden apartment with my girlfriend, went back to college, graduated college, started a Master’s, left my Master’s because my new cello teacher was batshit insane holy god damn fuck, got a job working at Walmart (”It’s just a temporary thing until I find something better”!), moved to working at a Walmart distribution center, quit that bullshit, and now I’ve been working as a school bus driver for the past year and a half. Like I said, alright.

I’ve thought about this blog every now and then in the ensuing years. There’ve been some occasional re-readings, getting a few laughs as I remember the wild antics my girlfriend and I went through with our fearless roommate Holden. Even though it’s been a long time, there’s not much of anything that sticks out to me as being exaggerated or embellished to make for a better story. For better or for worse (but mostly the latter, let’s be real here), all the things contained in this blog pretty much happened as written as best as I can remember. I admit that the tone might be a little harsh looking back on things, but there’s been a lot of time to decompress since Holden so whatever rage I had then has been toned down a bit so maybe it just feels a little out of touch, you know?

Oh yeah, and I actually bought a house. Decided renting was kind of shit, used the money from Walmart (they actually pay pretty well for living in almost-nowhere Kansas) to buy a little three bedroom, 1.5 bathroom house. Got a yard where trash blows in from the alley. The next door neighbors on one side don’t speak English and are pretty cool, the next door neighbors on the other side aren’t real and the house is abandoned and about ready to fall off its foundation. After two years I know the name of one guy across the street (though I did talk to the lady two houses down and one of the other guys across the street when he got my package accidentally). Honestly, pretty ideal setup I’ve got going here.

I also have nine cats, but we’re gonna move right along past that and maybe circle back in another post if I’m feeling frisky later.

The Girlfriend

As I write this, she’s upstairs, reading or waiting for me to come to bed or something, idk doing girl stuff. She also graduated college and got her Master’s, making fine use of it by being a middle school para for special needs students. She’s assured me it’s just as bad as it sounds and is only holding out until they forgive her massive private college student loans or one of us gets a better job (soon!). 

I think she’s finally forgiven me for living with Holden, but it’s hard to tell. I’ve never slept on the couch because of it but the implication that I should has been thrown around. Every now and then her car will die and I go out and wiggle the battery around and it starts working again and that makes up for having subjected her to Holden, I think.

The Holden

Big old question mark on this one, let me tell ya lads. Holden stayed in our old apartment building for the year after, rooming up with our mutual friend Zach in the apartment above the one Holden and I shared. I would actually occasionally return to hang out with him and Zach, as somehow despite everything that happened we remained on decent terms. I think after that year Holden moved downstairs to the apartment opposite ours, but one day I knocked on the door leading to the fire escape and got a very anxious-looking girl at the door instead of Holden, so at some point he moved out. Whoopsie.

I haven’t heard from or seen him since. He eventually deleted his Facebook and just sort of drifted off into the void like we all dream of doing ourselves. As of yet I haven’t managed to find like an obituary for him or anything so he’s still out there kicking and punching walls, I assume. I haven’t really gone looking for him, but I haven’t found him either. It’s probably for the best. So... why am I back? Well, like I mentioned, I bought a house. A house with extra bedrooms. Bedrooms that can be rented out to people. Mates, if you will. I figured in today’s dying coronavirus economy, now was as good a time as any to get in on the trend of kicking the bourgeoisie in the crotch and rent out a bedroom at an exorbitant cost while failing to maintain my property (the giant hole in the kitchen ceiling where it leaked two years ago says hi!).

So we rented out an extra room. The third bedroom became the office, so I can’t be as petty a tyrant landlord as I’d like to be. I used to think Holden was an especially bold kind of dumb that only came around once in a while, but with this new roommate, hooooooooooooooooo boy. Stay tuned, because we’re coming back with a fucking vengeance. My only regret thus far is not starting this blog back up a year ago when she first moved in.

Does, uh, does anyone actually still follow this blog? Steven? Ulrich? Anybody?

[guitarzero132]

Aftermath, Part 3: The Fridge

Oddly enough, I don’t think I ever really made a post on the fridge. Now that I think about it, it was probably due to the fact that everything that went wrong with the fridge was a small thing, and writing about all of it would have taken forever and been very boring.

So, there isn’t much to say. Obviously you all know about the science experiment that was relocated to his front door and then the fire escape.

Uhhh... there was the bag of onions that he bought the first week or so and left in the fridge until my girlfriend threw it out when she cleaned it.

Umm... there were a couple empty pizza boxes?

Hmm... there were a lot of random half-empty boxes of food.

...there was a bunch of stuff that leaked everyhwere...

Now there’s just a lonely bag of my girlfriend and I’s leftover food...

[guitarzero132]

Aftermath, Part 2: The Bathroom Sink

This poor sink... it’s been through so much that I think of it more as a puppy living in an abusive home that I want to adopt more than a cheap fixture from Home Depot.

But I couldn’t take it. You see, it’s attached to the wall, and my girlfriend would undoubtedly comment on my hoarding habits. So it was doomed to be left, hopefully to a tenant that would be much nicer to it than Holden.

As a quick recap, here’s a rundown of the sink’s history:

1. We move in, everything’s nice and clean. I keep my things in the cabinet above the sink, because that’s where they go.

2. Holden quickly starts taking over the cabinet, leaving receipts, change, Q-tips, shaving cream, toothpaste, and hair everywhere.

3. At some point, he cleans it.

4. See #2.

5. ???

6. Profit!

7. I clean it.

While it wasn’t quite as bad as the toilet, I still had to scrub the shit out of the sink bowl, and getting the cabinet and counter top clean needed a bit more than a dusting.

Much like the toilet, I took a semi-recent photo of it... on my old phone. So, here’s an ooooooooooooooold photo showing part of the sink. You can extrapolate what the rest of it looked like.

Aaaaand here it is after I got done with it.

[guitarzero132]

Aftermath, Part 1: The Toilet

Ah, the toilet. I’ll be the first to admit that I could have just as easily cleaned this as much as Holden, as it was just as much my fault for its condition as Holden’s.

But I didn’t clean it, and he didn’t clean it, and it sat, and sat, and sat, and sat, and sat.

And then I had to clean it.

So, with the purchase of a toilet scrubbing brush, I took the ancient steel wool that once cleaned our dishes, and, using the power of thinking, put the two together to give me all the power of steel wool with all the reach of a toilet brush.

So, after scrubbing for some time, I did it.

I only ever took one picture of toilet (to protect your sensibilities, dear god it wasn’t pretty), and it died with my old phone, so I can’t show you how it used to look. However, given what you know about the rest of your apartment, you can infer what it might have looked like.

No piss stains, no hair, no lint, no dirty hangers, no dust, no footprint in the dust... I could eat off of that shit if I wanted.

[guitarzero132]

Science, Bitches! Part 2

So nine times out of ten I’ll completely forget to do something I was supposed to do. Today was one of those days, and my girlfriend and I found ourselves driving the 70 miles back to our old home to pick up something that is completely irrelevant to this blog.

Aaaaanyways, you might remember that I mentioned a couple of times that our landlords were having more than a bit of trouble with some of the downstairs neighbors. Well, my girlfriend and I arrive at our old building to find that the combination lock securing the front door has been changed (for the first time since they’ve owned the building, they say).

So, since I don’t technically live there anymore, I have to call the landlord to get the code. Except fuck that, I’m friends with Holden’s roommate and they’ve got a fire escape that runs up the outside of the building. I can just go up that, knock on their door, let myself in, and go back to my apartment (our exit walkthrough hasn’t happened yet, so I’ve still got my key).

So, I’m on my merry way up the fire escape. It’s about 8:30 PM and the blazing Kansas sun has made its way under the horizon. Things are getting dark, and I’m clambering my way up a death trap fire escape.

So, I come up to the first landing (which is the floor Holden and I’s old apartment was on), and I trip my ass on something. I’m sitting there cussing, wondering what in the fuck is something doing just chilling on the fire escape. Using the wondrous flashlight of the LG G4 (which my unfortunate old G2 lacked), I saw my aggressor.

Yep, because that’s a fridge. 

[guitarzero132]

‘Til The Bitter End

So, it’s now August. As every college student across the country is aware, it’s now time to get yo bitch ass da fuck out. 

Of course, to do that, everything has to be, you know, clean. As I’m sure you can guess, that might be just a bit of an issue having lived with Holden. There isn’t much to this story and it plays out exactly as you’d expect, but I’ll tell you anyways.

So it’s July 31st, and my girlfriend and I are coming back to the apartment to get absolutely everything out. We’ve got until 5 PM, and we’ve been gone most of the day. Holden, in his usual over-confident way, tells us that he’ll definitely have all of his stuff out. 

“Great!” we think. For probably the first time since we moved in all of Holden’s mess will have been cleaned up!

Hah.

Hah.

Hah.

So we get there, and not only has almost all of his trash not been thrown out, his mess not cleaned up, and virtually nothing important been done at fucking all, every single box that I’ve packed is now sitting in the hallway.

I don’t even really know what he was hoping to accomplish with this.

In fact, as we arrive, he goes to his usual quiet passive-aggressive self (since, remember, he hates my girlfriend), and then leaves for work. So now, we’ve got two hours to clean up the entire apartment.

Fuck.

I already know this shit ain’t happening. So, I whip out my phone, hit up the landlord, and tell her this shit ain’t happening.

After some back and forth, the landlord agrees to let us stay an extra day. This works out good, because my girlfriend and I fucked up hard and couldn’t get a Uhaul until the day after we were supposed to move out.

So, girlfriend and I get at it. We decide to split up to conquer more ground. To make this post not ridiculously long, I’m going to be breaking down cleaning into so many posts that this blog will never fucking die.

After nearly six hours of cleaning and packing (and going to Sonic, because dinner time), we fucking did it. That place was spotless. This was the result of removing all the trash and actual useful stuff Holden left in the apartment for us to take care of, piled carefully in front of his door. To our chagrin, his new roommate wound up coming home and taking care of it.

In comparison, I had about four trash bags and a stack of pizza boxes for my trash. However, three of those bags consisted of empty two-liter bottles of soda (that I had intended to use to make a raft to live up to my older brother’s legacy at my old college), and most of the last one was supplies we used to clean the apartment with.

But... it’s over now. That, right there, my friends, is the end! There is no more Holden! My girlfriend and I have very happily gotten a large chunk of our/my things to our apartment, and will be unpacking for days. But... there is no Holden.

And I couldn’t be happier.

[guitarzero132]

What Lies Beneath

Note: I made a whoopsie when I scheduled this, and scheduled it to come up June 30th, not July 30th... so...uh, yeah. Here you go.

Today I came home to find Holden in full swing of moving his things upstairs. Indeed, his bed was in various states of deconstruction, and his mattress was already upstairs.

It’s like three in the morning, and I give no fucks, so I’ll just cut straight to the chase.

Something something something nobody’s seen under his bed since we moved in blah blah blah tonight his bed was gone yadda yadda yadda Holden’s gross and here’s what’s under his bed.

I’d be lying if I said I wasn’t a little disappointed it wasn’t messier.

[guitarzero132]

The Road Home

So, it’s the end of July, and as you crazy college-aged kids may know, it’s lease-ending season! That means thousands of college kids across the country are scrambling to figure out how the hell to get their 76-inch HD LED smart TVs five thousand miles back home.

Not Holden, though!

You see, Holden put absolutely no effort whatsoever into trying to find a new place to live that wasn’t the price-gouging nightmare that our current apartment is. To his credit, our town is a hotbed of shitty overpriced rentals, so it isn’t exactly easy pickings.

Still, a little bit of effort would have gone a long way. But Holden isn’t a man of effort, oh no no no.

So, just where did Holden wind up getting an apartment?

Right above where we live now.

To his credit, the apartment is about two times as big as the one we’re in now, and the same exact price. The main difference is that it’s a studio. But you know what the real kicker is?

He’s going to have another roommate. I very clearly see this going exactly the same way moving in with me did.

Mr. Zachary, I eagerly look forward to your blog.

[guitarzero132]

Communication Breakdown

So, the other day I decided to forget that I had put my phone on my lap, and stood up with it on my lap.

Whoopsie. Well, that at least explains why it’s been so damn long since I’ve made a post. I’m not that lazy, I promise!

And thus, for the first time in my life I had to replace one of my phones for a reason other than it becoming horribly outdated. It was certainly starting to show its age, but besides all the yelling and screaming and cursing it caused, it was a good phone, and I was quite sad to see it go.

Well, Holden doesn’t seem to have the same attitude I have towards phones, and tends to treat them... badly. Since the beginning of our time in this apartment, he is currently on phone number four. Since October. Well, whatever, if they die then they die and there’s nothing you can do about it, right?

...Right?

Hah.

Holden’s phones have never actually died of their own accord. Holden seems to take a fancy to particular crappy phones (no doubt as a result of him being chronically poor), and then fails to realize that there is somewhat of a correlation between cost and quality. 

Thus, he inevitably gets wildly infuriated at his phones when they finally start acting up, and the results speak volumes. 

The particular incident that inspired me to write this post happened about two weeks ago. One day, after many days of hearing Holden complain about his phone, his complaints suddenly stop. I give minimal shits, and carry on with my life. But one day I come home, and see a curious object sitting on one of the tables.

Upon closer observation, I realize that the strange thing staring me in the face is in fact a phone, with a screen that has been fucked. Not just “oopsies I dropped it lol!” but “god damn you fiery machine of satan you will die for your sins against me”. Seriously, the thing looked looked like it had been hit repeatedly with a hammer.

After some inquiry, I discover that not only did he get very mad at his phone, he smashed it with a hammer. Well aren’t I just goddamned psychic? On top of that, he smashed his only method of communication besides going and finding people in person without having any plan as to how to get a new phone. There’s a certain deliciousness to listening about someone doing something that’s dumb and shortsighted!

Of course, the photo I took of this pinnacle of human intelligence... got lost when I broke my phone.

Oh, the irony?

[guitarzero132]

Safety Matters

The Backstory

So, I do things at night, and all night. I get home around 7 in the morning, and more often than not this past week I’ve been coming home to find the door unlocked. But seriously, there’ve been a solid eight or so times recently. I could tell him that he’s been leaving the door unlocked, but given how important it is and the fact that he’s managing to forget it so easily, I don’t think it’ll do much good.

Our doorknob completely fails at its most basic task of latching automatically, so the deadbolt is the only part of the door that actually secures it. A simple push gets me inside the apartment, where we store my many thousands of dollars worth of instruments and electronics.

I really don’t know what I thought this picture would accomplish, but I took it anyways. Uh?

The Meat

These past few weeks we’ve been having some interesting drama with the neighbors. 

Yes, the neighbors, not Holden.

For the most part we’ve stayed out of it, idly sitting by as the shitstorm downstairs unfolds. I haven’t been present for much of it, but here’s everything I’ve gathered from Holden and I’s accounts:

Downstairs live a couple hillbillies. They like blasting bad country music out their bedroom window while they sit on the patio drinking crappy beer. I often pay them no mind, as they interfere very minimally with my life.

Well, soon enough hillbilly neighbors stop paying rent, on top of other mildly amusing things, such as not paying their power bill and running an extension cord from one of the outlets in the hallway and into their apartment when their power gets cut.

Soon enough, the landlord comes knocking at their door one morning, bright and early. He starts SCREAMING at them through the door as they ignore him. Now, I’m awake since I just got finished with my nightly activities, and soon enough Holden wakes up and joins me to enjoy Shitapalooza 2015.

And so as we’re sitting there, I hear the absolute gem that inspired me to write this post. Holden, in his infinite wisdom turns to me and says,

“You know, it’s a good thing we keep our door locked with the neighbors being so nuts.”

Or something to that effect.

I should get a fucking Olympic medal or some shit for not standing up and either yelling at him, laughing at him, or beating the shit out of him.

[guitarzero132]

That Smell

Like many apartments inhabited solely by college-aged males, our apartment has a certain, ah, tang to it. However, after much observation it appears that my girlfriend and I are the only ones that seem to care about it, or even notice it at all.

They say that people subconsciously block out the smells that their body naturally produces. Thus, most people are more or less oblivious to any pungent odor they or their clothes may have.

I’d like to remind you all that Holden likes to keep massive piles of dirty laundry in the living room.

So, put two and two together, aaaaaand...

Above you will see one of the great shames of my apartment. Hidden behind my pile of instruments (and until the taking of this picture Holden’s laundry) is... an AIR FRESHENER!

Most of the time on television you’ll see air fresheners marketed to be used to cover up the horrendous smells that come from massive shits, smelly children, and the like. As anyone who has ever used an air freshener for those reasons can attest, doing so is akin to spraying air freshener on a turd; it’s still a turd, and soon enough it’s just going to start smelling again.

The real purpose of an air freshener is to enhance a room that already smells good. It’s meant to give nice clean air a nice layer of faint odor that makes the room smell nice.

You all can guess by now what the purpose of our air freshener is.

Yes indeed, without it survival would not be possible. While we are indeed air freshening a turd, the implications of actually cleaning the turd are frightening. my girlfriend and I have adopted a very strong policy of “Don’t fuck with it unless we absolutely can’t.” 

As of yet we still have not broken down... yet.

BUT WAIT, THERE’S MORE!

Gather around and sit down, I’ve got a short story for y’all!

You see, not long after we first got these air fresheners, we had a problem. 

It seemed that Holden would actually turn them off. Whether it was simply to spite my girlfriend or because he was wholly and utterly unaware of the shit storm that they covered up and still continue to cover up was never cleared up, but it doesn’t matter.

The point is, he’s either dumb, or an asshole.

...

Or both.

[guitarzero132]

Science, Bitches!

Holden likes to make lots of food at a time. He says that he likes to have leftovers, and that he swears up and down he’ll eat it all.

You all should know by now, where this is going.

He makes food, eats some of it, puts it in the fridge, forgets about it.

Today, in celebration of my girlfriend and I having found an apartment in the city we’re moving to, she and I decided to bring the Two Halves of Crock together (Holden: “I’ve been wondering where that went, I’ve been meaning to make cheese dip!” No, seriously, he said that.) to make some of her famous pulled pork.

Well, we eat, she leaves, and I’m tasked with finding a place in the fridge for our giant crock pot to go. So, I have to do a bit of rearranging. No problem, really, as there’s only one shelf the crock pot will fit, and there’s only a couple of things in the oh god is that one of Holden’s leftover dishes. 

Shit.

In a moment of brazen curiosity that I swear on my mother will never happen again in my life, I decided to take the lid off and see what science experiment Holden had gotten into this time.

I wish I hadn’t. I really, really wish I hadn’t.

*throws up in mouth*

*projectile vomits*

[guitarzero132]

Beneath Mount Gag-azet

For as long as I can care to remember, Mount Gagazet has graced our apartment. Foreigners might be more familiar with its colloquial name, Giant Pile of Fucking Dirty Laundry in the Living Room. It was there when I was born, and my ancestors have told the story of its existence for generations. Indeed, there has never been a time when there was not Mount Gagazet. 

Locals dared not venture near it, as its ever-shifting form was the topic of many fearful legends. Each day, those living in the nearby village would awake to find the mountain had changed overnight; parts of it had been rearranged, new parts of mountain had been added tonight, and its grungy odor seemed to have a new flavor to it.

However, today, we awoke to find something had happened. For the first time in our recorded history, the mountain had shrunk to levels that allowed some of the bare ground beneath it to be revealed for the first time. Within minutes a reconnaissance team was formed, and sent to the mountain. 

Though we avoided the mountain at all costs, these men seemed reassured that the mountain’s reduced mass ensured that they would be safe. They left just after sunrise, and said they would be back in the evening.

At sunset, a lone member of the party came stumbling out of the forest. Insane and rambling, he carried in his hand a lone photograph. As he passed it off to those of us who stayed, he dropped to the ground, dead. With much trepidation, we looked at the source of our friend’s suffering.

It took us but mere moments to make out what the team had found. It seems that though the mountain is a monster in and of itself, whatever it guards is unspeakably worse. 

There are no records of any major civilizations aside from us. Rarely, a lone man or woman comes from the Away, collects supplies from our generous people, and continue on their way. We have never once seen another large group of people.

Yet, today we found something that seems to indicate we are not alone. There is... something... out there. Any information as to what it is died with the men who found it. We have but one wordless, voiceless photograph. Our fears and ideas have formed around just a tiny Polaroid, and it keeps us awake in fear long into the night.

Though there was but evidence of one lone item, our town has good reason to fear that there could be countless more, hiding, waiting for the time the mountain shifts in a way to free them. We cannot be certain, though we feel as though we are. Each day now passes with us in fear of what else may one day come out.

For the time being, copies of the photograph have been made and posted around the mountain, warning those who come from the Away of the dangers that lurk beneath Mount Gagazet so that they do not succumb to the fate our most brave friends did.

The photograph of the mysterious artifact peeking from beneath the base of the mountain. Nobody can say with any certainty how long it has sat under there.

[guitarzero132]

An Anecdote, #8

Note: This story was told to me entirely by my girlfriend. I was pooping when it happened.

Every now and then, Holden likes to walk into the apartment and get right into the dumb. Sometimes I’m lucky, and it waits at least a few minutes.

This, folks, wasn’t this time.

To make things short, the wonderful city it is that we live in seems to be having an issue with intermittent power loss at random spots in town. I strongly suspect the cause to be the result of having not updated the appropriate infrastructure since the city was built.

Anyways, so in he comes, and immediately says something along the lines of “Hmm, something in the fridge must have spoiled when the power went out; it smells in here.”

For the record, it has always smelled in this apartment. The power never once went out here (though the lights did flicker like all day).

What really gets me is that he blamed something in the airtight fridge spoiling after a couple hours of the power “being out”.

Not, you know, the giant pile of dirty laundry directly due weast of the front door.

[guitarzero132]

The End is Nigh

In my typical half-assery, it seems that an important thing to mention has completely slipped my mind. Those of you playing along at home might have noticed.

One month from now, my ordeal will be over.

Yes, over. 

There will be no crappy tiny apartment. There will be no more shouting matches between my landlord and our hillbilly neighbors. There will be no more instances of our upstairs neighbor going bowling in her apartment.

There will be no more lingering smell of stale laundry. There will be no more being talked at while I’m sleeping. There will be no more piles of dirty dishes.

There will be no more dirty bathtub. There will be no stealing of my things. There will be no general stupidity. There will be no retarded outbursts at the mere presence of my girlfriend.

There will be no more Holden.

I personally haven’t quite figured out what to do with myself in the End Times. This blog is hardly a Pulitzer Prize winner, but it certainly fills a void in my life. I’ll probably find something else to write about; it’s not something I do often, but I do enjoy doing it. I’ll probably start writing something more serious, like an actual blog, or a story.

Probably. 

There will also be a time when this blog gets deleted and its contents lost to the history of time, but that time is a ways away. Until then, we can all just sit here, getting hammered to the thought of spending another day here.

Or is that just me?

[guitarzero132]

The Incredible Moving Sticker

So, a couple days ago a sticker popped up on the bathroom counter. Normally, I wouldn’t notice it, but given the counter had actually been cleaned, its presence was particularly noticeable.

As you can see, it contains nothing important on it. A date and time from four days ago, and that’s all. Before you ask, no, I don’t know or care what happened on that date.

Currently, it rests in the place you see it above. However, the previous days have each seen it in a new and exciting location within a foot of its previous location. Clearly this sticker must have some importance to Holden, as otherwise it would have been stuck to the counter and promptly forgotten.

Yet each day it finds itself in a new place. At some point in the day, the neurons in Holden’s brain line up just right to form a single coherent thought:

I should move this sticker a few inches!

And thus he does so, satisfied with his brilliant idea.

I considered asking him, but figured that would be akin to giving a whining child ice cream.

So we’ll wait and see what happens. Ten bucks that it stays there for a month until he “cleans” again.

[guitarzero132]

Bigger and Better Things

So, today happened to be one of those days where I sit down and write a bunch of posts at once, and queue them up to make it look like I actually care. I I wrote a solid four of them, and thought that would be the end of my blogging shenanigans for a week or so.

Then, much like life, Holden decided to hit me square in the face. Not literally, but in that way that makes me stop and think “Wow, I have to blog about that!” I’m not a hipster, I swear.

Well, let me back up a bit.

You see, one of those posts was going to be about how recently he’s been dumb enough to leave our front door unlocked overnight. It’s not like we live in a bad neighborhood, but we do live in a building with less than intelligent people. Needless to say, leaving our door unlocked = bad idea.

Well, that’s what I was originally going to write about.

Then, about 3 AM this morning (which is like 3 in the afternoon thanks to my funky schedule), I get a text from one of Holden and I’s mutual friends.

“That’s odd,” I think, “she gives about zero fucks that I exist, what’s up?”

So I text her asking what’s up, and a few minutes later she responds, saying that Holden’s managed to lock himself out.

Now, if I were sitting on my ass on the couch and Holden’s banging at the door to let him in, I might unarse myself. However, since I’m far, far away and caught up in some business, there ain’t no way in hell I can let him in, so he’s gonna have to wait until like 7 AM.

On the drive home, I took some time to appreciate the irony of his leaving the door unlocked all the time and then managing to get locked out.

I also take some time to ponder just how exactly Holden managed to lock himself out. You see, the doorknob on our front door... doesn’t quite work. I know I’ve mentioned it before, but here’s a recap: In order to get it to latch, you have to grab onto the knob and yank up on the door really hard. Otherwise, it won’t work. Basically, he had to have been trying to get locked out.

So, I get back to the apartment, expecting to find a Holden sleeping in the hallway (seriously, don’t put it past him). Instead, I find a sack with some bottles of water in it. I don’t understand it, but hey. Maybe he headed off to our friend’s place? Either way, he’s nowhere to be seen. A quick check of the door’s locking functionalities shows the doorknob to be unlocked, but the deadbolt locked.

Now that I think about it, I recall waking up this evening and seeing the apartment door was unlocked. Given his recent streak, I thought nothing of it. This can only mean that he didn’t have his key when he left for work today. Now, does he tell me this? Of course not, I’m supposed to be some fucking maid/autistic child caretaker with ESP. Got it.

Enter the apartment. The overhead light in the living room is on. This doesn’t make any sense, as I know I didn’t leave it on when I left, and if Holden lost his key that early in the day, he wouldn’t have been able to get in to turn on the light. A quick sweep of the apartment shows nobody home but me, and a few of Holden’s more notable possessions out of place.

Curiouser and curiouser. 

So, I have the following questions:

1. How the fuck did Holden get locked out?

...Actually, that’s about it. If I can figure that one out, I can figure out everything else. I’m sure only time will tell.

On the docket for the rest of the day: Figuring out how to be conveniently away from the apartment for as long as possible.