How badly do I wish this photo was staged? So badly.

Text from my (new) neighbor yesterday:

“I’m letting the boys out to potty, then letting Ernie run with Dyna (her dog). Hope you don’t mind.”

And that’s how I found out she has a key to my house. While is cool and all, I guess. It’ll keep me from letting the dirty dishes pile up in the sink. Ernie has already trained me to keep dirty underwear hidden in the closet, so three cheers for shame-induced housekeeping!

As I live alone, and have for a while, certain things have become habits. Peeing with the door open. Singing in the shower. Sitting on the couch in my underwear watching Weeds and crying (side note – I thought that show was going to be funny, but really it is depressing as shit and I have a huge widow crush on Jeffrey Dean Morgan).

Seeing as we are close friends and all, I’m going to let you in on another secret: if it’s yellow, I let it mellow. Please, hold your applause. Just doing my part for the planet.

But.

On the day in question, I came home to find a distinctly un-mellow deposit in the toilet.

“Did she really? What kind of person does something like – oh wait. I did that.”

I DID THAT, FRIENDS.

Let the judging begin.