A traveling Texan returning to the lone star state

This morning was going to be a GLORIOUS morning. It was going to be the first day after a long 40-hour week of hard work where I could sleep in a little later than usual and not worry about my alarm going off at 7am. I even stayed up a little later than usual last night because I knew I could bask in the glory of dim lighting the following morning on my semi-comfortable make-shift bed.

Alas, my dream of peaceful slumber was completely obliterated at 7:45am when the angry Polish landlord from downstairs pounded vigorously on the front door to our apartment. The guy who is in charge of our rent is out of town and told me to give him the rent when he got back on Tuesday. This, unfortunately, had not been brought to our landlord's attention and he wanted the rent NOW (my share, anyway) in CASH! In a state of confusion, I deliriously slipped on a big sweater, jeans and a hat and walked 20 minutes in the cold to the closes Bank of America to get money.

Eventually, I returned back to the house and gave Slawmomir (that's his name) a chunk of $20 dollar bills. Here I am now, back on the floor staring at my alarm clock.

I guess the only positive thing about this situation is that I get to say that in my lifetime, I was once awoken by a 6 foot 2 angry, red-faced Polish man shouting in a thick accent about money, young kids being irresponsible and Sundays being church days.