![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
(no subject)
Sep. 24th, 2007 07:56 amTrue story.
3:00 AM front door slams. I think to myself, I have to write the landlord a note about having a decelerator installed on that door.
Mystery: You awake?
Me: Yes
Mystery: Did that damn door wake you up?
Me: No. I was already awake.
Mystery: What woke you up?
Me: It isn't important.
Mystery: You should tell me.
Me: I was sleeping on my hand, and I was pressing my face so hard that it hurt, and that woke me up, and then I couldn't get back to sleep because my hands smell like onions.
3:00 AM front door slams. I think to myself, I have to write the landlord a note about having a decelerator installed on that door.
Mystery: You awake?
Me: Yes
Mystery: Did that damn door wake you up?
Me: No. I was already awake.
Mystery: What woke you up?
Me: It isn't important.
Mystery: You should tell me.
Me: I was sleeping on my hand, and I was pressing my face so hard that it hurt, and that woke me up, and then I couldn't get back to sleep because my hands smell like onions.
