Fuck. I messed up my rent check this month, twice. The first time was sheer negligence - I'd just forgotten to write it. The second time though - when I actually wrote and hand-delivered it - I gave them a check from an old checkbook, from an account that's been closed. Fantastic.
I'll have to call my landlord in the morning and explain that I am merely an incompetent dullard, not an unreliable tenant. Fun times. What an enjoyable way to end a Sunday night. I should've just stayed where I was an hour ago; the cool breeze drifting in softly from the open window, Velvet Underground humming from the speakers, the weight of her sleeping head resting against mine while little zzz's whispered from her lips; the moment was inertial and slow, hanging in time like a morphine lullaby.
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