Conventional Crap

Trudging through the door, I waddle into my kitchen, letting the overwhelming amount of grocery bags fall onto the table with a thud. I would've taken two trips to heave the groceries into the building although that's risky business; leaving your belongings outside in an area as sketchy as this.(especially with something as precious as my jelly-filled donuts) Besides, not all of us have the luxury of having a vehicle that...well has doors and can lock...one of the many disadvantages of owning a beat up segway. Only walking or biking or really anything that requires exercise could possibly be a worst mode of transportation. Although, the trek from the parking lot to my apartment could be worse. I could have to climb the stairs! Living in the basement is at least good for something. 

As I throw my frozen dinner in the microwave, the telephone rings. 
"Hello." 
"Hi can I speak to a Mr...a Mr...Wackerman?" the shrill voice of Ellen Davis giggles. 
-Surprising as it may be, it isn't the first time someone has smirked at the sound of my name. 
"Jackie Wackie Jackie Wackie" is all I heard in kindergarten. Classmates perpetually teasing me through elementary school. Even teachers, when berating me for cutting up in class, would have a facetious tone when calling me out by my full name. It didn't get much better through high school, inevitably the same cycle of students, no one ever seeming to leave this town. The only reassurance I got was my father reminding me during the pubescent stage that "at least I wasn't a boy with the name Wackerman."-
"No this is Ms. Wackerman. No Mr. Wackerman except my father," I replied.
"Oh, well Ms. Wackerman, I would ask about the origins of your name but I won't waste my breath, I'm here to inform you that you have not yet payed rent! Eviction is not to be taken lightly." 
This was only the 8th time this year that Ms. Davis had forgotten I worked at the Victorian; therefore my rent was paid for. 
"Um excuse me, Ms. Davis, I'm an employee of the Victorian so my rent is deducted from my paycheck," I replied.
"Oh right, how could I forget, Ms. Wackerman...what do you do here again?" 
Frustrated and slightly embarrassed to continually remind people of what it is I do, I replied grudgingly, "House keeper." 
"House Keeper?" she asked
"Oh the janitor! How could I forget? Well if you don't mind would you check on the 4th floor? Apartment 309? Hal South ate some thai food and things went south real fast."
"Well actually-
"Okay great! Good Bye!."
And with that the phone went silent. 

With a sigh of exhaustion, I hopped on the couch and turned on the TV. It was 7:30! The Pimpsons season premiere was about to air! 
"BOOM," the windows shuttered and the lights flickered and went out. I scrambled in the dark for a flashlight, after 10 minutes of searching for working batteries I found that the only thing that worked in the house was the toilet(and just barely). Not surprised at my crap luck, I gave up on the idea that I would enjoy my night. Pulling my once frozen, now cold, dinner out of the microwave I ate at the table in silence, brushed my teeth 3 times and sprawled out onto my bed setting my alarm for 5:30am to begin another routine of the runs.