Oh Boy...

In case you forgot, I am now living with a roommate also named Philip. The rest of this post depends heavily on remembering this fact. (Although now that you know the dependence of this post on that fact, you probably could write the rest of the post yourself...)

Within the first six hours or so of arriving at my new apartment, I found something I didn't recognize, but that had my name on it, and assumed it was for me. It seemed a little weird to me that those things were there for me, but it took a little while for it to click with me that those things were not actually for me. In particular, when I found a packaged tape measure in my room, with a note on it from Uncle Jim (I have no Uncles named Jim) to Philip, I thought it was really nice of my roommate's Uncle Jim to give me a tape measure. It wasn't until at least an hour later that I realized it was a gift to my roommate, and he had left it in my room.

Hopefully I'm getting better. Since that first night it hasn't happened again... yet.