That was definitely what I was feeling at the moment. I thought opening up a private investigation business (is that what you'd call it, I don't know) would be exciting. I'd be helping the community with my super observational skills and getting paid for doing it. Turns out it's a lot more boring than that.
I've filled out more paperwork than anything else and over the month I've started this lucrative business, I've had no cases. If things didn't change soon, I would have to find a different way to make a living. And I really didn't want to do that. I had very few things I was good at.
I decided while I had nothing to do I might as well see how many tiny braids I could get into my hair before my hours were over for the day.
I was on braid number five when there was a crash by the door. I was momentarily distracted until I realized it was my cat Derp wreaking havoc. He managed to fall into the magazine holder and knocked it over trying to be free of it. And since I'm such a good owner, I watched it happen instead of helping him. It was funny to watch. If only I could have gotten my phone out fast enough. I definitely would have videoed that.
Derp glared at the magazine holder, looking offended. He daintily made his way over to my desk and hopped up onto it, making himself at home.
We passed the hours of boredom together.
By the end of the day I had 56 braids in my hair.
I climbed the stairs to my living area, conveniently located above my office, and fed my cat. I would be getting food at the club. Which club? I didn't know yet. I hopped around from one to the other on most nights looking for my latest fling... If that's what you want to call someone I have no intention of sleeping with more than once.
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A tangled mess of limbs is what I was stuck dealing with in the morning. I carefully extracted myself from the pile and looked at who was sharing my bed. Slender, olive skin, long dark hair. Seemed like my type. But who wasn't my type.
There was a feminine moan and she slowly rose out of the bed. I felt like I should address her in some way. Wish I remembered her name. Wish I remembered last night. Let's see, name... I could figure this out. She'd definitely told me it. It started with an N, no M, definitely M. Martie... no. Marta... nope not that either. "Maria," I tried.
She looked at me cross. Not Maria then... "Marika," she corrected clearly taking offense to me not remembering her name. It would definitely be a lot more offensive if I remembered anything else from that night and didn't know her name. Since I remembered nothing, I was okay with not remembering her. But I wasn't going to tell her that.
I fixed her breakfast while she glared at me. Really was it so much to ask for her not to be cross at me? We might have actually been able to hold a conversation if she wasn't so icy. She ate and grabbed her stuff. With one last moody huff she left my apartment.
