Roy and Jenna come over, and I'm sure the three of us at one point have actual plans to walk over to the Seaport to watch the fireworks, but in the end we're all too hot and lazy to get out of the A/C-path. We watch...something. I can't even remember. Hellboy, perhaps.



At one point during the evening, Jenna shifts her seat on the couch a bit, makes a classic WTF?-face, reaches between the cushions, and pulls out a pair of scissors. Man, I'd been looking for those things for weeks, and couldn't even imagine what had happened to them, as I am ALWAYS sure to return them to the drawer when I'm done with them. I instantly flash back to...basically every day of my childhood, when my mom was forever screaming at us for never putting the scissors back in the drawer after we used them.

I remember now: I was sitting on the couch cutting the tag off of a t-shirt before doing a load of laundry a few weeks ago. I feel bad - all this time I'd thought that my super had come into my apartment without permission while I was at work (he's done this at least twice before, once to replace my intercom, once to install a carbon monoxide detector - yes, I realize both times he was doing me a favor and probably saving me all kinds of time, but nevertheless, he didn't have my permission), had used them, and then just dropped them someplace. Instead, it was just my stupid carelessness.

Just as I'm going to bed, I see this funky shadow that my folding chair is making against the door: