So last night I was sitting in my apartment talking to Ben when I heard this “boom” sound.
It sounded like someone hit my car, so I ran outside. Nope, someone LIT MY LANDLORD’S CAR ON FIRE. Needless to say I FREAKED OUT. And ran outside to move mine. But then the tree next to our houses went up in flames and I don’t know I just started crying.
I’ve had a really bad week. Like epically bad. I’m broker than shit, I am seriously trying to figure out how to live off of sixty dollars for the next 7 days without borrowing any money or whatever. I’ve had a couple of other ishy things happen to me in my personal life that aren’t worth blogging about and the last thing in the world I wanted/needed is my house to burn the eff down.
I screamed up the stairs and Ben called the fire department. My neighbors came out. Ben came down and dragged me away from any of the cars because I didn’t need to move mine and in case my landlord’s new car exploded he kinda didn’t want me to explode. So we stood there, me in my Hello Kitty pj’s, and watched my house almost burn down.
The fire department came. The cops came. My poor landlord looked pretty upset. Duh, her brand new car had just exploded. Apparently my amazingly cool landlord had evicted someone and well, this was their idea of a good time and pay back.
I’m exhausted. I’m broke. I’m angry. I’m grateful my house didn’t actually burn down.