dear quatch,
you were right in front of me pulling into the garage tonight. what are the chances of THAT?! none. we have never, ever, never gotten home at the same time in 10 months.
did i cower and drive extra slow hiding behind pillars and walls within our underground garage? yep.
did i almost let the rolling door hit the roof of my car in effort to be that far behind you? yes, i did.
did i come to a full stop behind another wall right before turning to our parking area and then realize you would see me cowering when you went into the building since it was right in front of the door?! yeah. sure did.
did i pretend to be very involved with my phone as i was creeping slowly toward my space which is, of course, right freaking next to yours?? yessir.
thank god above you weren’t in your car by the time i made it to my spot. thank god again that you weren’t checking your mail as i walked slowly toward the communal boxes. thank god you weren’t at the elevator, or in the stairwell as i climbed up. i would have died a thousand deaths of embarrassment. or faked total shock that you are the offender.
if you ever confront me and knock on my door to apologize, that’s exactly what i’ll do. “whaaaaaat??? no way!! omg, i am SO embarrassed!! i had NO IDEA that was YOU!!”
but i might be cursing you on the inside. just a little. because you’re still stomping. butthole.
xoxo, tattle girl