Feeling: aggravated
Listening to: You're Pretty - Shh Quiet
Reading/Watching: saw The Missing. it was creepy.

This morning, I drove back to my apartment and a van was sitting, running, in the parking space right in front of our building.

I parked next to it, got out, and realized the inhabitants of the van were looking at me. Realized that they were both familiar. Because they were Nimsay's younger brothers.

Taken by surprise (and blushing to think of how I must look, in rumpled clothes and with bed-hair) I asked them, "What are you doing here?"

"We wanted to hang out here instead of at the hotel and Nimsay said you'd let us in," the one nearest to me replied.

"How long have y'all been waiting out here?"

"Not long; about forty minutes," he said, and it registered that he was the older-younger brother, the 22-year-old that I was forbidden to find attractive (although I still did, initially), because he'd once dated one of Nimsay's college roommates and it had gone haywire.

And then I realized I was staring, because my brain was still functioning slowly, and they were both offering their most charming smiles, hoping I'd let them come in out of the July heat.

I mumbled something along the lines of, "Um... okay..." and walked to the front door, looking over my shoulder to see if they were following.

A couple of minutes later, while I was washing the dishes, I heard them come in. They set up camp on the couch, one plugging in a laptop computer and the other turning on the television. I felt sheepish as I self-consciously tidied up a bit, then went to shower and get ready for work.

After showering (and dressing, obviously), I detached my apartment key from my keyring, giving it to them so they could come and go without having to wait on me, figuring I could just grab the secret key from its hiding place on the porch.

Then I left, and checked in the hiding place. The key was not there. Because, I realized, I'd given it to mon coeur at some point when he needed to leave my apartment after I did (I think he was doing laundry or something; I can't remember), and now I was without a key to my own home.

Sheepishness continued when I arrived at work and forgot to clock out for lunch. I ran up to the front desk about twenty-five minutes into my lunch break to explain it to them and tell them they'd have to fix it, and then proceeded to have four hours straight of annoying customers.

There was one point I actually said to a woman, "Ma'am, I'm sorry, but it is very difficult to understand you when you're screaming at me. I might be better inclined to help you if you calmed down." She hung up on me. I was too irritated to care whether the Big Scary Quality Moniters were listening at the time. Plus, one of the guys in the next cubicle called out, "You go girlfriend." It cracked me up.

Then I got the obscene phone caller. And since, technically, we're not allowed to close the call until the caller says goodbye, I had to just sit there and try to ask "how can I help you" and "what would you like me to search for?" while rolling my eyes at his answers. Finally I snapped, "Excuse me, but is there actually a point to this call, or are you just here to waste my time?"
Pervert: (disconcerted) "I... was just trying to hit on you."
Me: (being bitchy) "Well I'm just trying to do my job."
Pervert: (recovering) "Oooh, you do your job, baby, you do your job reeeeal good..."
Me: *Click*

If anyone was listening to those calls, it's enough to get me "separated". They'd be justified in firing me, and then re-hiring me just so they could fire me again. Although it'd be funny if they did: I only have 7 work days left anyway.

It felt rather good to blow up a bit, since it's one of those things everyone in customer service dreams about doing (usually something they say they'll do on their very last day of a job), although I remained edgy after finishing the day and realizing I needed to pick up the spare key from mon coeur so I could get back into my apartment.

I called him to tell him I was coming, met him on the stairs outside his building, and prefaced our conversation with, "I'm irritable and looking to pick a fight, so maybe you shouldn't talk to me right now."

He did anyway, the foolish boy, and managed to survive without attracting The Wrath of Katie (I don't know how he does that), and I actually headed back home feeling much better.

Nimsay's youngest brother is sleeping on our couch for the next few days, so I'll probably be keeping my laptop in my room, and not going out late to see mon coeur as often.

It kinda stinks. I want to see him, but I really shouldn't when coming in during the wee hours would most likely wake our couchguest. Mrph. Self-control is highly overrated.

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