nostr:npub1d6l38yd09cdc7euck672thp0k6c0d67lcxlyxksgndvwdn8j36asjle9qj I lived in a run down apt that had the phone closet for the building IN MY CLOSET. I’d shit a purple and grab my bug-out bag just about every time I saw the PacBell truck pull up. It was never for me, but I was certain that I was getting made! Every now and then they’d give notice that they needed to come in and do something, which gave me some time to punch everything back down the way it should be.