Waking Up in an Unfamiliar Place

I believe in being proud of the little accomplishments in life. Small accomplishments, such as thinking of that hilarious one-liner or finishing the daily crossword in record time, get me through the day and allow me a silver lining that allows me to look at the world in a positive night. One of these small accomplishments was that I always remembered where I fell asleep. Now this may seem like a petty insignificant accompishment, but think of it like this: I never got so inebriated or exhausted that I simply blacked out and couldn't remember how I made it home the next day. This was a point of pride that I maintained through my stressful high school years and my "wild" college years through last night. So imagine my horror when I woke up at 4:37 AM in the hallway outside of my apartment.
Now, I remember specifically falling asleep in my bed last night. I put on my pajamas, turned off the lights and fell asleep with my hand on my cat like I've done almost every night for the last year. So when I woke up in the middle of the night wearing jeans, a sweatshirt, mismatched socks and my dress shoes, I was mildly surprised. The first thing I did was get my bearings. I was about ten feet away from my apartment door. I was not bleeding, in unusual pain or missing any vital organs. I also was carrying seventy three cents in change and my apartment keys.
As I slowly got up and figured out what happened, I walked to my door and checked to see if it was locked. It was, meaning that I had somehow picked the right key on my keychain and successfully turned my very tempermental lock. When I walked into my apartment, nothing seemed out of place or missing. Moochie was patiently waiting at the door and I had left my wallet on the coffee table.
Now, here's where it gets disturbing. When I checked my wallet, I realized I had taken out two dollars out. Judging from the odd change in my pocket, I apperantly bought something for $1.27. What this was, I don't know, due to the lack of a wrapper, can or bottle in my apartment or the hallway.
So by my own estimate, my unconsious self, being unhappy with its lot in life, got myself up and dressed, walked out of the apartment and down to the store (the nearest one being three blocks away) and bought something and then came back and decided to chill in the hallway after disposing of said item in an unknown location. I don't know what disturbs me more, the fact that I did all this or the fact that a cashier actually took my money and rang me out.

Addendum: I haven't had a sip of alcohol in over a week, or taken any medication besides Advil in over a month. This was done by a sober, albeit demented subconsious.