Doorbell Ditching

Even though our doorbell doorbell-ditches us and we loath it with a fiery passion, we decided to doorbell-ditch some neighbors of ours. So we left them this Dino. 

(We kept the snail) But we left the Dino with a poem, holding two ziplock bags filled with pancakes and syrup. The pancakes were still warm so we had to leave one bag unzipped so they didn't sweat everywhere. 

Instead of running pell-mell in all directions we sat at a picnic table 30 feet from their front door. We were calm and collected and hardly watched them stare in confusion at the plastic offering. 

I feel I need to mention that we do not know these neighbors. We simply had leftover pancakes. 

Our dishwasher gallops. 

Microwave? We have a Microwave?

So, you know that moment when you learn something that is so blatantly obvious you want to crawl under a rock and stay there for the rest of your life? Rachel had one of those moments today.

Rachel discovered that our apartment has a microwave today. This is the third week we have lived in the apartment. She has been in constant battle with the toaster oven and oven to warm her food. All of us roommates have seen her do odd things such as her eating thawed burritos or being frustrated at the time it takes to cook certain food items. None of us realized she had no clue a microwave was included in her rent.

Her world expanded by that much when she heard the beeping to alert another roommate that their food stuff was warmed quickly and to perfection. Her squeal of joy and horror was possibly heard in other states. The laughing from all us roommates was possibly heard from space.

Oh Shirt of The Irish, Bring Us the Men

Every time you move into a new apartment, no matter if it is with the same people or newer better ones, you find out some interesting quirks about the place. Usually it is a particularly creaky spot on the floor, or a leaky faucet, or cellphone dead spots. Occasionally, though, there are quirks that bend the time/space continuum, or border on the supernatural. 

We have found one such quirk.

My roommate Katrina has this shirt that she likes to wear when no social outing is imminent. But we have discovered that every time she dons her support of the Irish, our apartment gets visited by single members of the opposite sex.

The first time it happened, we were visited by two groups of boys. The first group had an official agenda, the second group... not so much. The next night it happened again. The third night Katrina put on the shirt, thought better of it and changed. But it had been pulled out and we got a visitor. Even just writing about the shirt was enough to bring a ring to our doorbell. 

We are a little confused why it is this particular shirt that brings the men. Naturally a lounge shirt must be baggy and unflattering, so one would hope not to be caught in it. But for some reason the mystic powers of the Universe will it otherwise. Though, they seem to make up for it. Last night our visitors were half-naked and well-proportioned...mmmm. Perhaps we'll make the shirt our standard and raise it on a pole outside when we're looking particularly saucy.