so my apartment is haunted. and not in the fun friendly-ghost-who-turns-into-uber-hottie-devon-sawa-circa-1995 kind of way.

 (you're welcome)

there we were getting into our regular tuesday evening groove (...sitting on the couch waiting for glee to come on glass of vino in hand...) when the biggest badest CRASH ever rang from the kitchen.  normally, we're no stranger to random clinks and clanks around the apartment (shout out to apt 508 who has taken a particular fancy to redecorating their apartment at 8am on Sunday mornings). this was no clank. this was a KABOOM

post fiasco precautionary measures

we dashed into the kitchen-barefoot!-to find our coffee pot (we had a coffee pot?) strewn across the floor, shattered into millions of little glass land mines.

how did this happen? the now defunct coffee pot was previously nestled into the coffee machine, tucked away behind our blender a good 2 inches from the ledge. no one was in the kitchen, no one had even rummaged around up there for months (years??). curiouser and curiouser.

the scene of the crime...note the degree of nestle! 

only logical conclusion: ghost. but why the violence?? did we commit some unforgivable coffee faux pas? are our appliances starting to revolt? are we making shitty coffee? come to think of it, i DID play the lazy girl card and went for a starbucks run earlier for a mid morning pick me up in lieu of making a pot myself *technically a FREE cup of coffee courtesy of the seven unused starbucks gift cards my dad pawned off on me

i guess our ghost is just one judgy starbucks hatin bitch