*knock knock*

Who's there?

I don't know, because I didn't answer. No one ever knocks on my door. My first thought was that cutie fire boy had tracked me down and was coming to ask me out. It's scary how deluded I am, isn't it? Then my second thought, and the one that is probably the truth, is that it was someone trying to sell me something. Little do they know, I'm flat fucking broke. I've lived here over 2 years, and only twice can I recall someone knocking on my door when I wasn't expecting it. The first time was a magazine salesman, the second was a wrong apartment.

I didn't answer because I was in my pjs. That's the first thing I do when I get home, I put on my pjs. Good gawd I'm pathetic. I mean, someone knocking on my door is a blogworthy event to me. How much more boring can you get?? Oh, and also I'm highly anti-social and I don't want to talk to whoever it was.

Anyway, I choose to revel in my delusions, and so I have put on capris instead of my pj pants, just in case cutie fire boy comes a tap-tap-tapping again. *snort*