Can I just start by saying that 1. I never wear shoes in my house and 2. There are 12 inches of concrete separating me from my neighbors below. And to top it off, I was sitting on the couch and the boyfriend was sitting at the computer. WTF?

This isn’t our first noise complaint. The same people complained for the same reason a few months ago. Too bad we were out of town that weekend!!!! We actually freaked out that time – did someone break into our apartment and take all our shit? Nope, just a crazy lady downstairs!

So this morning I stopped in the leasing office and asked about last night’s complaint. Is this going in my file? Because I don’t think I did anything wrong.

Turns out the lady below me just is a crotchety crazy lady. The best part: this complaint isn’t going in my file – it’s going in hers!

So I hand the guy at the front desk my tags. He checks the package log, pauses for a second and says, “That’s odd. This package has your apartment number on it, but it’s for the Brooks family.”

What?

So we go to the back and scout it out. Sure enough, there’s a box (well 2 actually) with my apartment number written all over them. These are 2 small, blue boxes, that clearly came in packaging from a company. The company’s logo is all over it. What did I get?

A box of Similac.

For those of you who aren’t familiar with Similac, it’s formula. Like the kind infants eat. Did I have a kid a few months ago, order some formula, and suddenly get amnesia about this whole ordeal? I don’t think so?

It gets even stranger. So the second box is addressed to the Brooks family. Who live in a different building than me. But the address has my apartment number on it. And the two boxes have different tracking numbers, so they were clearly shipped separately.

Here’s what happened:

A. As stated above, I had a kid, ordered formula, and forgot. Oops!

B. The Brooks family messed up and put in the wrong apartment #. But that doesn’t explain how the second box had MY name on it.

C. A third party ordered me Similac. Maybe the company sent me samples? I mean, I have been spending a lot of time in Baby Gap – maybe I signed up for some sort of mailing list by accident?

D. Something else?

I have no idea what else could have happened.

This still leaves me 100% confused about the baby formula that came to my house. SO WEIRD!

• Techy guy who wants to create his own “gadget”
• A modern recessionista – let’s face it: buying 3 new tires is cheaper than buying 4!
• Someone who wanted to ride a motorcycle but was afraid of being hit by a car
• Old guy who decides he wants to go back to the “good ol’ days” when real cars didn’t exist

I cannot think of a single other reason why someone would drive this

Also, the state of California requires that all persons riding in a vehicle with less than 4 wheels wear a helmet. I mean you look ridiculous either way, but adding a driver with a helmet to this equation just makes it a million times better.

Pretty basic stuff there. Piled on a bed of lettuce, a bunch of spinach, a sprinkle of cheese. I’m about halfway through the line at this point, and for some reason someone put the croutons here, in the middle of the assembly line. Oh well, I can have croutons in the middle of my salad instead of on top.

So I grab the spoon, the very flat spoon I might add, and fill it with mini croutons. As I’m bringing it to my plate, many of them fall off.

An older gentleman approaches from the wrong side of the line. He was looking for the croutons, since they weren’t at the end. (“Can’t forget the croutons!!”) He sees my crouton fail and says, “Well here look you’re spilling them all over the place!” Sorry sir! So after I put about half a spoonful onto my plate I hand him the spoon. He looks at me and he’s like, “That’s not enough croutons. You need more than that!”

Seeing as how croutons contain yeast, I’m not supposed to have ANY croutons so I politely declined. He wouldn’t take no for an answer. He scooped up a bunch of mini croutons and put them on my plate. “Here you go. Now that’s much better. Everyone needs croutons!”

Thank you?

Seriously?

So yeah, you can pay $20 to have this game and make virtual ice cream concoctions. Or you could get a job a Coldstone, work 3 hours, and have similar satisfaction plus $20 in your pocket.

I just don’t get it.

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Then my phone rang. I was thinking it was J telling me i forgot some random thing at home, but what could I have forgotten that was so important?

I stopped at starbucks and look to see who called. Ah yes, the Workplace-wide Alert system, which contacts everyone in case of an emergency. So I checked the text: Power outage for several hours in all buildings.

At this point I’m thinking to myself SCORE – bad weather day? Maybe we’ll be sent home!

So I drove into work, and sure enough there is zero power. We work with a lot of various materials that require special safety training, and I have no idea what happens when they’re not at proper temperatures. At this point I’m really hoping my boss will tell me that it’s time to just leave and work from home.

No such luck. I walked into my office and was like “Oh the power’s out” to which he responded, “Yes it certainly is. It looks like it’s going to be a paperwork morning.”

NOT the answer I was hoping to hear!! At this point I had basically started planning my day around being at home: slipping back into flannel PJs and fuzzy socks, making some hot chocolate, and enjoying the view of the storm from my couch, feet perched on the coffee table, curled up with my laptop.

Instead it’s 3pm and I’m in front of my work computer, kinda cold, and still in my jeans and rainboots. Maybe next time.