As promised, the histrionics

I mentioned in my last post that I had a history of taking a somewhat paranoid approach to ensure my young female dauntless self's safety. There are dangers to independence, and at times perhaps I am too conscious of these.

In my last apartment, I lived alone and it was a good lesson on why I should never do that again. First of all, it's like ktb-mindfreak when I'm my only company for hours on end. I would drive myself into this hyper-paranoid state where I would shove a step ladder under my front door, barricade the bedroom, and sleep fitfully clutching my cell phone all night, my fingers trained to dial 9-1-1.

This is my stepladder. It is not my real ladder, but I try not to treat it any differently.

 

It also led to situations such as the time I was trapped inside a dress all night, unable to reach the back zipper. I was fully resigned to sleep in the dang thing when some last ditch miracle contortion saved me. All exaggeration aside, I was literally stuck inside the garment for over 30 minutes. Allow the mental image to fully articulate itself: a girl stomping around her apartment for thirty minutes grunting and swearing at herself as she attempts to reach the allusive zipper. Yes, this included several episodes of arm flailing, tripping over myself, and falling flat to the floor.

Click "Unabridged" for the rest of the story.

I suppose I have a tendency to avoid thinking of the consequences and yes, sometimes the danger my actions can bring about until it's too late. Then, I fitfully manage to concoct some frantic eleventh hour scheme that really only serves to offer a false sense of security more than anything else. I get overconfident about the strangest things- being alone in dangerous neighborhoods late at night, confronting the squatter on my porch, hurdles in 8th grade track...but I digress. I doubt that is a theme that will remain dormant for long anyhow.

All that is to say, when I moved out of my last apartment I had a couple of items of furniture I needed to get rid of and after exhausting all other options, I posted  them for free on craigslist. It was a last minute deal (I think I needed a couch and a desk gone within 2 days), and I immediately went for someone who could pick up both pieces. I also used my criminologist and human behavioral training (CSI, Criminal Minds, Law and Order) to deduce what combination of email address and domain name; use of fonts, emoticons, CAPS, and wallpaper; in addition to their signature block would least likely spell murderer and therefore increase the likelihood of my survival. At long last, I found a promising candidate by the name of Chris T.

Unfortunately, a thought had been lurking in the back of my mind and did not fully descend upon me until the morning of the scheduled pickup. By this time, it had accumulated an attitude and was taunting me, reminding me that I lived alone, no one knew what I was doing or who I was meeting, and that I was most likely going to die and they would never find my body and it would be no one's fault but my own for not being more intelligent about this whole Craigslist business. I concocted one of my aforementioned frantic stop-gap plans and below is the result. (Oh and also, I didn't die)

This email was a gamble because Chris could have gone either way. He could have thought I was a loon and not taken the furniture or he could have recognized it for the half-joke, half-precaution that it was and get a good laugh, but also be reminded not to kill me. Luckily for me, it was the latter and almost no blood was spilled (Chris did cut himself on a staple on the underside of the couch and bled all over the hallway. Whatevs! I don't live there any more).

And so children, that is the story of why you shouldn't falsely convince yourself you have mad ninja moves, invisibility powers, or super speed and plan practically and cautiously from the very beginning. Maybe then you can avoid being hobo-shanked. (JOKE! We all know hobo's are such peaceful beings). Someday, I'll tell you about how this same mode of thinking caused me to accidentally form a club. Assuredly a story for another post, though.