Bad Day

Today started out fine. In fact, things were actually awesome pretty much immediately following my last post.
Last night (after I had updated this), I made an amazing discovery as I was traversing the world wide web. I was checking out the upcoming events at all the area music venues with which I am familiar. And low and behold, before it was even announced by the band, I discovered that Project 86 is scheduled to play in Franklin on October 16th. I nearly pooped myself. Not only will they be back in the area, but it's only a 25 or 30 minute drive.
This morning was fine as well. It wasn't the greatest, but it wasn't bad.
The worst thing about the morning was having to deal with Daulton asking if and when we were going fishing again every two seconds. He also made an extra effort to not really work today, so I had to ride him more than usual.
After work, I grilled some chicken and made Anna a quesadilla. That was all fine.
After that, we watched some tv. That was fine.
After that, I got a phone call from Karen telling me that Phyllis had locked herself out and didn't have my number to call. Let me just say this, it's not my fault Phyllis doesn't have my number. I've sent it out on several memos, and other residents have it too. Well anyway, I went and found Phyllis and let her into her apartment. That was fine.
Things became very not fine when, very soon after my door unlocking adventure, Anna tried to access the information on her external hard drive. Nothing happened. The hard drive doesn't show up as connected to her computer. Her computer has been having issues, so I tried to plug the drive into mine. Nothing. A big fat nothing. This is bad because all, and I mean all, of Anna's pictures and videos are on this hard drive. They had been on both the computer and the drive, but Anna's computer was screwing up so much that she did a factory image restore and hadn't yet had the chance to deal with the information on the hard drive.
Why would the drive have to go and fail so close to when Anna has had to redo her computer? That ruined our day a good one.
After I had a good cry, I decided to make myself some chicken fried steak and feed my feelings. I do have to say that it was by far my best attempt at chicken fried steak yet. I could work at making it crispier, but I don't know if I'll succeed in this apartment. I would need the pan to be much hotter, and I've already discovered that our smoke detectors are overly sensitive. I can't think of a sound much worse than a smoke alarm sounding.
Sara, you mentioned a desire to meet these people I talk about. Well, unless you get your butt up here to hang out, describing them will just have to do. So for all of you, my dear and faithful readers, I will start telling you what I know about the people I discuss, one person at a time. And I think it would be logical to just start with the residents, going apartment by apartment.
Apartment 101: Velma
First of all, her name is Velma. Secondly, I have a sneaking suspicion that it was one of her daughters that made that nasty phone call to me a few weeks ago.
Velma is a little old lady in the very stereotypical little old lady sense. For the longest time, I didn't think she existed. I saw her name on the rent-roll, but I never saw her face. Each time she has paid rent, she has shoved it under the door in my office. As a result, I didn't know who she was until well into July. As far as I can tell, she keeps pretty much to herself. I think she spends most of her time listening to her police scanner. She is visited relatively often by what I assume are her children. And by children, I of course mean women-who-would-just-as-soon-punch-you-as-look-at-you. This isn't to say that Velma isn't nice. So far, she has been decent to me on the few occasions we've spoken, but I get a strong sense that she doesn't like me. I don't really know what to do about it.