Excuse For Dropping Out of NaPoWriMo Last Week, Numbers 1-300

My apartment got broken into last week. I think I know who it was, too.

As near as I could first figure, either my roommate H (or myself) left the outer door unlocked or ajar, which gave the perp time to level the inner door with his foot, kicking it to the point that the side along the bolt and lock split. Fortunately, he heard my newest roommate and his dog. The newbie was sick, and the dog was recovering from being neutered. Neither could put up much of a fight, but the guy (pardon my sexism if I automatically assume only a guy could be this kind of an asshole) booked it anyway, taking only my sneakers--the only size 11 in a sea of H's size 5 pairs near the door.

What was strange was that I didn't remember leaving the door entirely unlocked. Stranger still, the thief left not by the most direct route (the door behind him), but down the cellar and through the door leading outside. A convoluted escape route, to say the least, and one that couldn't have been guaranteed unless either the person either took time to case the place and risked being seen (assuming it'd be easy to open) or he already knew about it.

As fate would have it, I get a call from Jon, my old roommate, who's actually looking for a place(though he may already have a deal), and he informs me that our old roommate and potential refugee G is back, after having disappeared over a year ago, leaving uncashed checks at his job. He is now harassing his ex-girlfriend by volunteering at the school she works at.

For those who wonder why I'm working on a chapbook of poems based on my roommate experiences, the answer's obvious: escapism. A break from the rigors of life.