23

On Hanging Something Up

Wow, a normal-hours post! Something I wish I did more often, but inspiration doesn’t strike me in the middle of the day usually, and/or I have other things to do that I can’t do in the middle of the night, but since I a) got three full pages of writing done today for prelims (double spaced!), b) don’t have enough time to drag myself, my chair, and my books to the sixth floor to read out in the sunshine before I should head to the gym so I can get there before it closes, and c) have something to write about that’s not too long, here goes.

So, today is the birthday of one of my across-the-hall neighbors. Even though I already wished her a happy birthday on Facebook, I decided to tape a Happy Birthday note to her door, because I like taping nice notes to peoples’ doors. So I wrote the note, and then I couldn’t find any tape to put it up with.

Now, if you know me well, you know that I always have at least three rolls of tape in my apartment at any given time. I use packing tape when mailing stuff, Scotch tape for various things, and duct tape because who doesn’t need duct tape. And of course, one of the few time I actually need one of those items, I can’t find it.

So, I look around my apartment for tape, anything adhesive. I spot a box of Band-Aids on the counter and take one out. Then I realize…how ghetto would it be to hang something up with a band-aid? Probably very, very ghetto. I don’t want my neighbors to wonder exactly why I used a band-aid, and if it’s germy or gross, or whatever. The next thing I find is one of those rolls of stickers. This one has aliens on them. Yeah, that’s not that much less ghetto than a band-aid, even if it is kind of cute – I don’t want my neighbors, again, to be all…that guy, who doesn’t own any tape. BLASPHEMY.

Anyway, after scouring my apartment for way, way, waaaay too long, I see a roll of clear packing tape under the coffee table. I grab it, tear and oblong piece off, and then go and tape it to the door, just as the elevator opens and a girl comes out, and with my luck, it would be the birthday girl…

…I sprint down the hallway…

…but it wasn’t, it was one of her roommates. I poked my head out of the door, and she said, “was that you sprinting away from our door?”. “Yeah, it was me.” The birthday roommate, she told me, is on vacation in Hawaii for a few days. We had a good laugh about it.

And that’s how I tried so hard not to make it weird that I actually made it weird.

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