Birthday Sketch.

Today started off like any other day.

I did not go to heaven nor hell. And I have yet to be destroyed by the fiery inferno big-ole-bag-o'-awful that God is supposed to attack us with. So that was good.

I woke up, made myself some Gluten Free toast. (It's made of rice. Really dense. I could probably knock out intruders with it). Then went to work. After work, I participated in a party celebrating my birth. Whipped some cream, Amish-Status by hand. And ate some Key Lime Pie. However, the strangest event of the evening, was a phone call that interrupted "It Takes Two" (Pretty much the Mary-Kate and Ashley version of 'The Parent Trap', except in this movie they aren't twins, which makes ZERO sense, because they're twins in real life. Anyways.) The call was from a man by the name of "Pastor Peacock". A minister of a Baptist church in Oakland. He called at 10 o'clock at night to inform me that he has found my stolen cell phone. The phone that was taken from me at the beach months ago. The one that caused me to lose faith in humanity. The one that helped me decide to live without unnecessary technology for weeks. Anyways. He found the kid who took it. And has my phone. No sign of a left flip flop yet but the jury's still out on that one. I couldn't believe it. So strange he would call on my birthday.

Then, I drove home to the Creepy Mansion which I am house-sitting. And encountered two abandoned vehicles on the side of the cliff. This observation wouldn't be such a big deal if they:
1) Weren't within 200 feet of Creepy Mansion. Which they were.
And, 2) Weren't within the confines of a locked gate with a passcode....
As I walked in the front door, I realized it was unlocked.Which was concerning. I would search the house, but I'm tired. And I don't particularly want to find rapists hidden in wardrobes right now.

So. It was a beautifully concerning Birthday. Here's to another year of Sketchiness. If I'm attacked in the night by the creepy people parked in the driveway, thanks for being such dedicated readers.