Cross Your Fingers for Me

Okay, so I just got off the phone with "Bobby" a pseudonymn for the boy who will be moving into my apartment in August. He was glad to hear from me, as he had stopped by on Tuesday, when I was out of town. To "prove" that he had actually been here, he noted that there was a package at my door. Hmm. Should I be impressed or scared? Anyway, he will stop by after work, and he'll be wearing bright neon because he does road construction. Details, details. Who needs details when this girl needs cash. I hope that "Bobby" has saved up this summer and can afford my high quality items. I should hence go and clean my bedroom, as I am hoping that he'll remember how much he thought that the lofted bed was cool, but honestly, I know myself. I'll end up putting all the clothes on the floor away on the floor in the closet or something. I also need to price other furniture like my beautiful plastic furniture. And how can I spin my couch into a boy couch? Wish me luck.

I also am having lunch tomorrow with a colleague who wants to talk shop and Peace Corps and Ivy League. He's an enjoyable character and perhaps will provide me with some office gossip. Don't judge. I live for office gossip, but that is only because I've worked hard to make my life as undramatic and boring as possible that I sometimes have to check and make sure that I have a pulse. Living vicariously helps. As does selling furniture that neither of us will have to move. Again, keep your fingers crossed for me that I can unload some heavy shit.