Got up this (Friday) morning super early (the theatre had 3 movies delivered overnight that open today) and wandered, with my eyes as closed as possible, into the bathroom. Used the toilet and brushed my teeth, all with my eyes still closed. Fumbled my hand around a little in search of my shaver. Begrudgingly open my eyes, a little, as I cannot find it. Don’t see it. Open my eyes all the way. Still don’t see it. Squint my eyes almost closed again hoping that it might appear. . .
Sidebar: In the morning I often have this really strange thing where my brain “audibly” latches onto (i.e. I say to myself) the most random thoughts and loop them over and over and over and over; especially when I am tired. So during this affair my inner dialog has lapsed into something like: where’s my shaver? where’s my shaver? where is my shaver?? where’s my shaver? where’s my shaver? where is my shaver?? where is my shaver?; this continues through the next paragraph.
. . . After about two minutes of staring at the counter, checking the mirrored cupboard, and under the bathroom sink (4 times each), I decided it might be somewhere else. I wandered around my apartment for about 15 minutes looking in places like: under the couch, in the cupboard under the kitchen sink, in my mailbox at the bottom of the stairs, and everywhere else my under slept and mostly asleep brain thought was a good idea, and wasn’t. I then came to the conclusion that maybe I overlooked it in my small, yet maybe more sneaky than I thought, bathroom.
I reentered the bathroom fully intending to check the same two cupboards again, when I realize that my razor charger is also missing (my eyes are mostly open by this point and my mind has lapsed into some self-degrading loop wondering over and over why I checked the mailbox). With this realization I am now fully awake and beginning to be a little ticked off. Someone stole my razor? Who does that? I begin to think back at who has been over to my house and come up blank as far as prospects go.
Wednesday night I had two people sleep at my house: my good friend Adam’s brother, Ryan, and the lead singer of their bad Sam. Sam played an amazing live set at a local restaurant earlier that night and the two of them were looking for a place to crash before trekking the 2 hours home (Sam is 35 and looks stunningly like a younger version of Bill Nighy; facial scars, hair, and all). Both of these guys are about as likely to steal as I am likely to get a contract with Thievery Corporation for my simple yet strikingly original loops. But I decide to give Adam a call to check with them for me.
As I am telling Adam this, I ask him to also bring up the fact that I found a rather large pile of pot seeds and stems on my kitchen countertop Thursday morning that I did not appreciate. Not only do I avoid the stuff at all costs, but I also value my standing with my landlord and the local law enforcement as a “free” and upstanding citizen. Adam is surprised as neither of these guys are involved with the stuff and promises to look into the affair.
I just got a call from Adam. Apparently around 3 AM Ryan woke up to the sound of voices in the backroom of my apartment. He went back to check it out finding an undisclosed amount of people talking, smoking pot, doing something with razor blades, and breaking up an astonishing amount of marijuana into smaller groups (note to self: close mouth I am not a codfish).
While this is the part of the story where Laura breaks into something like “and then the little girl starts pulling on my leg . . . like I am pulling yours right now,” I am not pulling yours.
Adam is going to convene with his brother and some friends and get back with me. Ryan thinks he could identify the guy if he saw him again, I should probably file a police report. . .blah blah blah.
So I guess this story is “to be continued.” Hopefully with a climatic scene where I get to punch a drug lord in the throat and demand my electric razor back.
Note to self: locking my doors tonight.
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