Part 1

The irony of the last post was that I DID fuck something up, and so quickly! I decided to make some bread because I've been meaning to + I don't have any. Guess who misread her measurements the first go round? I figured it out pretty quickly, but decided to see if it would rise anyway. Really salty bread would make good croutons, no? Any way, it didn't. The second loaf, which I had immediately started once I realized my mistake, is now in the oven. Oh man, I crack myself up when I jinx myself. 

Part 2

I think that the guy downstairs is a little weird. I have only seen him four or five times, but he is much older than the mean age of the apartment residents. I know this sounds prejudiced, but it is a blatantly young complex. I don't even know if the girl who lives next door to me is old enough to vote. Plus, I have never seen any indication that he lives there besides his bedroom light being on (you can see this from the parking lot). We actually don't have many wired-in lights, four total if you count the bathroom and the closet, but if you turn on your kitchen light it is bright enough to shine on the blinds that face the courtyard. I know that this also makes me seem creepy for paying so much fucking attention to my neighbors, but I sit in the same spot to smoke everyday. I can see his front door and windows from where I sit. I also try to park my truck under my window if I can't get a good spot near the gate. Since his window is below mine I naturally notice that it is on despite the usual lack of life signs. It isn't so bad to be curious about neighbors, is it? I otherwise know most of them. I can at least recognize them when they are out with their dogs or in the grocery store. 

Part 3

I should write for the CSI crew. CSI: Austin, can't you see it? I'll tell you why - well, I'll preface it first. 1) there is a big windy front blowing into Austin, 2) when this happened I had just finished watching some weekly prime time show about profilers and this week's topic was a schizophrenic satanic cannibal. 

 Emma enthusiastically went to the door and looked back at me. I tried playing "get that chicken!" with her (she has a favorite rubber toy chicken), but she was adamant. So I hooked her up to her leash, grabbed a cigarette and my keys to lock the door behind me, and as I struggled to get my key back out of the lock I told her, "Just remember when you're uncomfortable out here, this was your idea." Then I had a little imagine TV scene flash in my head of a CSI crew in my apartment days later. "She was making bread," one of the forensic crew members says. "Looks like somebody couldn't wait for the dough to rise," the main detective cracks as they cut to commercial. You know, there is always some sort of groaner at the scene.

 So, after commercial (this first death scene is running long, I know), see me and Emma walking through the parking lot. It is super dark (I tried to remember how it is they show super dark in TV and movies. I think that they use blue lights?), and blow-you over windy. Trash and leaves were all over the place and moving past me at lightning fast speed. A little jumpy and suspicious, as the victim usually is, and the gate that tends to have trouble latching keeps blowing open and slamming. Even Emma is jumpy and this is where I would have died. Then I hurried back in to check on my bread. The end. Maybe it should be a Without a Trace at least that way I could just disappear. Then after the commercial they could show the cops crawling all over the complex. They'll talk about how my boyfriend called in after he came home to find Emma sitting patiently by the door, waiting. Oooh! 

Okay, the end.