And the camel's buried in a big straw stack

So, my first day as "sojourner" at Alvin's house, and already several things have gone wrong. This does not portend well for the future; on this trajectory, I should have caused Alvin's home and half of his neighborhood to have been destroyed in an unprecedented conflagration by Christmas time. "The Great Cerritos Conflagration of 2005," they'll call it.

The morning started off well. Alvin woke me at 7:30 to move my car, because I'm parked behind him in the driveway. I went back to bed, and woke up later in the morning. After a nutritious (and tasty) breakfast of Kashi Go-Lean Crunch cereal, I noticed several mugs and dishes in the sink.

"Wouldn't it be nice if they came home and saw that I had washed their breakfast plates?" I asked myself. "Yes, it certainly would!" I proceeded to clean the dishes. Toward the end of my task, the dish rack was rather full, so I vigorously shook the last mug in order to get the water out.

The unnerving clank of a high velocity ceramic-porcelin collision broke silence of my morning. Apparently in my alacrity to dry the mug, I had hit it against the sink.

"OH NO!" The jovial, carefree spirit that had characterized my dish-washing was quickly replaced by great trepidation. "What have I done?!?" Along the rim of the shiny, dark green glazed cup, a half-inch sliver of ceramic had fallen off, revealing the porous, white interior.

"Alvin's parents have allowed me to stay here, and I have repaid their kindess by damaging their property!" There was only one thing to be done: I had to hide the evidence. I checked the cabinets to make sure this mug was not one-of-a-king. Fortunately, I found five or six of its sibblings in the cabinet. With so many identical mugs, this one's absense would likely remain unnoticed. Whew! Of course I wasn't foolish enough to throw away the mug in the Chan trashcan, where it would almost certainly be discovered. I took it to work, and disposed of it there.

On my way home from work, I called Alvin to ask what kind of pastery his parents might enjoy for breakfast the next morning. He didn't pick up, which is very unusual; unlike me, Alvin rarely screens his calls. I was a little worried, and phoned again once I arrived at King's Hawaiian Bakery. Still no answer.

"Odd," I thought. "I wonder if I left the garage door open. Maybe he's talking to the police now! Maybe I left the garage open, and all of their things were stolen! Alvin can't answer the phone because he's telling the police everything that was taken from his home! WHAT HAVE I DONE?!?" I called Pam for a second opinion of my horrible vision. She assured me that Alvin was probably in the shower, and that I was being illogical.

I came home, and Mrs. Chan told me that I had, in fact, left the garage door open. Needless to say, I was mortified, but also very relieved that nothing had been taken from the house or garage. Although I had been careful to make sure the door began closing as I left, I had not seen it close completely. Alvin later informed me that the door sometimes reverses directions as it's closing. Sigh. This has been a very difficult day.

It remains to be seen for whom my sojourn at the Chan house will be more trying: for me, or for the house. I feel great stress to avoid completely dessimating their domicile; the house must do its best to withstand my inadvertent assaults. Who shall be the last one standing?