I'm feeling GREAT!!! *cartwheel*

Um, yeah, I'm pretty much lying to you. I have enough pseudoephedrine in me that if I ingested bleach and turned up the temp in the room I'd be a walking meth lab. Anyhoo. I have a little story to tell. Now, one of you knows this tale already as you sort of lived it with me, but we'll let the others be surprised, eh? Come, sit for a moment, won't you, while I tell you a tale of great intrigue and mystery...

So. The other night (er, early morning to be correct) I came home from work and went through all the normal things one does when they get home from work. As luck would have it I even managed to catch a good friend on line. Somewhere just after two in the morning I had to cut our conversation a bit short temporarily. I think the conversation went something like this for a few moments: Us: blah, blah, blah Friend: Cool Me: No, not cool Me again: Someone is trying to get in my fucking house! Yeah, that's about when my heart tried to explode and exit through my ear. Know when you see people in movies trying to dial the phone when someone is breaking in and they are just staring at the door and fumbling with the phone? Ahem. Yep, that's pretty much how it happens folks.

Anyway, I'm calling 911 and the dispatcher is asking me repeatedly where I'm calling from. I told him the street address, town - all but the color of my friggin' mailbox but neglected to say 'Pittsburgh'. I think the problem was because I was on a cell (so what the hell is GPS for?!). So, after snapping at him in a rather shaky but obviously perturbed voice, I blurt out something that I'd hoped was in error. Nope, what I told him was true alright - the sons of bitches were now in my house, upstairs. This was not good.

I'll save you the string of obscenities I spewed at the dispatcher when he asked me what I deemed to be stupid questions. Just send a fucking car, will you?! You know, what happened to the nice ones that are supposed to comfort you when in the midst of a crisis? Guess they work a different shift, all I got was Dispatcher Bob Cranky Pants.

As I ended the call I began the back and forth game of Should I Stay and Wait for the Police or Run Out of the House Like My Britches was Burnin' and My Ass Was aCatchin'. Really alot to think about in those moments. They could've come down and broke my windows in. Or I could have gone out and their 'lookout' could have clubbed me over the head. Well, more likely just shot me. Anyway, after a very nervous wait, the police showed up. Three of them to be exact.

What happened next will be burned in my brain for a long, long time. Those three burly, well-armed men made their way up to the second floor and promptly, uh, flushed out my new neighbors. Heehee. {SNORT!} Oh come on! It was after two in the morning and I had no idea the place had even been rented! Last I talked to my landlord a few weeks ago, he said he wasn't going to hurry and rent it and still had to complete work. Given the fact that I live in a shitty neighborhood, have been alone in this house for +/- eight months, wasn't expecting anyone (let alone new tenants) and it was past two in the morning, which only lent to her having problems opening the locks in the dark, I think my emergency call was warranted.

Hooboy. So the new neighbors and I sort of all got a laugh out of it. She said the landlord promised to call me but was leaving for vacation so as it turns out, they didn't call til the next day; she thought I knew about the place being rented. They laughed their asses off when I told them that I'd already met the new neighbors and how.

So, they moved in today. Who knows where this little trip will take us.