paragiraffe

Late

This month I forgot to pay rent. Finally, on Saturday my landlord emailed me and said, “What’s up, yo?” And I said, “Holy shizzle, I forgot!” Only that email exchange was much more polite (and white). I felt deeply, deeply sorry, as evidenced by the seventeen “really”s I used in my reply email.

And when I said I forgot, I mean I completely forgot. Yes, I knew it was April, but somehow the fact that it was a new month at which point I make a regular payment completely escaped me. In the movie of my life, April 1st through 5th will be shown as a montage in which I am repeatedly confronted with signs of a new month (Maura flipping the calendar! Maura getting her new monthly transit pass!), and yet I will remain blissfully ignorant.

In related news, I’m anal, and I hate being late. To my landlord, I am still sorry.