"God...ow."
Your head was throbbing. The ringing in your ears was unbearable, and you could barely even differentiate it between your doorbell ringing from down the hall. Wait...
"Shit! Ugh!" You groaned. How could you have forgotten? This was the routine health inspection the landlord was telling you about. Why didn't you set a reminder...
You threw on a pair of shorts and a t-shirt and sprinted to the door, throwing it open. The health inspector stared you dead in the eyes with a touch of fear. You probably looked just a little bit odd, standing at the door, a panting anxious mess.
"Um," she looked you up and down and nervously smiled as if she wasn't totally judging you right now, "Are you," she looked down at her clipboard, "Y/N L/N?"
You straightened yourself out. "Yeah-" Woah. Hello, morning voice... You cleared your throat. "Yeah, that's me. You're the, uh, health inspector, right?" She nodded.
"Yup. I just came here to tell you that a few of the other occupants are still finishing up their cleaning, so I've decided to give everyone a chance to have the inspection tomorrow instead. Would you prefer that?" She asked.
Holy shit, this is a gift from God, you thought to yourself. You glanced behind you at your kitchen with dishes piled a foot high in the sink, and...was that a sock in the blender? You turned to look at her. "That would be...great." You said, nervously grinning.
"Perfect! It's no worry at all. See you tomorrow, Y/N!" She smiled warmly and turned to walk down the main hallway, giving you a small wave. You shut the door and leaned against it. God, what a perky bitch. Jesus, that was mean. Whatever. You pushed off the door and waddled over to the bathroom to take a piss and brush your teeth. You looked in the mirror and grimaced. No wonder she looked at you like that. You were a mess. Your hair was unbrushed, and there was eye... crust all over your face. After cleaning yourself up you brushed your teeth and gargled a shot of mouth wash for good measure. Your clothes were clean, so you didn't need to worry about them. Ok, you thought. I'll use this to my advantage, I guess.
You decided to start with your bedroom. You grabbed the cleaning supplies from your bathroom drawer and went to work, scrubbing down everything and making sure there weren't any stains, mold, or animals hiding around any corner of your room. You finally finished and stood up, popping what must have been at least 15 bones in the process. You had already taken out the trash yesterday, so that wasn't a problem. You finished cleaning up the rest of your apartment, which wasn't hard. It was small, after all.
You sighed and wiped the sweat off your forehead, throwing yourself down on the couch. The pain in your head started seeping in again, and your throat started to sting. Aw shit, you remembered. I'm hungover. It came back to you now. You were celebrating your friend paying off all her student loans, and you and the gang all went to the bar down the road from your campus and drank the night away. "Never again," You muttered to yourself. As stupid as you and your friends were, you knew you could trust yourself to go out drinking with them. The designated driver, Miles, was a 19-year-old freshman who refused to ever touch a drop of alcohol. You were all at the legal age to drink, and they always made sure to get you home safely if you couldn't yourself.
You decided to call them.