Impeccable

Note:  Second entry of the day.  See my previous entry for a full update of what’s going on with the relationship situation.

His timing is always impeccable.  I was just sitting here at my desk, minding my own business, when my phone began to vibrate across my stack of notes.  "David calling."  I didn’t answer.  He didn’t leave a voicemail.  I suppose I will call him back after work.  How does he always do that?

In other news, Bobby sent me a text earlier.  "Call when u can. Something happened."  I felt a lump growing in my throat.  Did one of my cats get out and get run over?  Did he get arrested?  Did my house catch fire?  No, no, and no.  I seriously could’ve done without the anxiety-triggered-heart-beating-through-chest-wall.  This situation actually did involve fire, though.

Yesterday, Bobby was about to make a run to the store for me to pick up a pack of smokes.  Unfortunately, his car battery was going dead.  He borrowed my car to run to Walmart.  Instead of coming back with jumper cables, he purchased a battery charger.  The battery and charger sat on my living room floor for six hours yesterday pumping juice into one another.  This morning, Bobby dropped the battery back into the rack in the trunk.  Yes, he drives a BMW, and for some reason, the battery resides in the back of the car.  He reconnected all the cables, put the key in the ignition, and… nothing.  Still wouldn’t start.  A neighbor saw the dilemma and offered to jump him off.  Both parties revved their respective engines, and all of a sudden, fire began pouring out of both vehicles.

Bobby now has second degree burns on his right hand (thank god he’s a lefty), and burnt-to-a-crisp trunk.  His car had to be towed to the shop.  Now, even if I ask him to leave, he can’t.

Just shoot me now.

Felina.