My phone died one week ago, although the bill is paid and it still rings to voicemail. Yet in the apartment I hear no ringing, dial tone, or otherwise. Dead air. It died sometime last Friday, the 13th.

I didn't come to work yesterday. I couldn't call in. My boss is furious. Today is a half-day, and she should arrive sometime in the next hour. It's ten past eleven right now. I talked to her on the phone this morning when I arrived.

If I don't have a great reason for her to keep me, I'll be fired. Her words. I don't have a reason. She doesn't believe me about the phone. She lives east of here, like I do. I'm going to invite her to go there with me and see the phone for herself. She'll decline. It's a pathetic idea really. Not to mention that in my frantic haste I locked my keys in my apartment and can't get in. The roomie's still away, so no help there.

I hope to be back writing here soon. I do all my writing at work, you see. If this clusterfuck goes badly, it may be a while.
1:11 PM - Bottle Rocket Fire Alarm