In Pursuit of Mysteries

Apartment Joy

Well, there went the hope of a relaxing evening.

Phone call on my cell:

“Hello?”"Hi Al, this is Patrick.” (my apartment manager)

“Hi, Patrick. Whassup?”

“I listed your apartment in the newspaper. It’s in late so it won’t show up until the Sunday edition. I expect that I’ll need to show it a few times on Sunday or Monday. We’ll just come in, look around for a few and leave…”

Al looks around at mounds of books, papers, coffee cups, cat hair, cats, dirty clothes, etc. etc. etc.

“Uhm, Ok. Thanks for letting me know.”

“Sure thing. Talk to you later.”

“Bye”

I guess I’m packing shit in boxes tonight for my move and making my place into a not-complete-pig-sty. I haven’t let the manager into my apartment since I rented it 1 year, 11 months ago. He’s never been inside. heh.

P.S. “Bemused” is not a mood. It should be.