Confession #3

A couple years ago when I lived in an apartment by myself, I remember a time when I was really afraid of my neighbors knocking on my door at the most inopportune moment. I feared that they would call the cops and I would get locked up or get placed on a psych hold. This all started because I needed to repack my kit and sharpen all my knifes, because as someone once put it, they were dull as those plastic pre-k scissors. So, I started by organizing my kit. I had my kit completely scattered all over my living room floor and then I got distracted and thought I should sharpen all my knifes before packing my kit. I had an electric sharpener, which is really loud. So I'm sharpening my knives and then I hear footsteps outside my door. I ran to the peephole hoping that it wasn't a disgruntled neighbor.. and then I realized that not only do I have a knife in my hand, I also have my kit spread out over the entire living room which includes: trash bags, gloves, duct tape, masking tape, metal skewers, wooden picks, glue of all kinds, xacto knifes, propane torch, butane torch, paper towels, dish rags, an electric charcoal starter, a heat gun... and pretty much everything that makes me look like an assassin! Lucky for me it was just a delivery guy going to the apartment next door. But, confession: my job makes me look like a serial killer