As I was leaving the apartment to move my car at 8am, I opened the door and found three detectives standing there.
They hadn't knocked yet, so after an initial awkward exchange of laughter, I was like "uhh, can I help you?"
I've mentioned before that we get the mail still for the previous resident, Franklin Darwin, and I've also mentioned what happened here two months before we moved in. (Still creeped out)
It turns out that our buddy is in fact a convicted class-3 sex offender and continues to fail to register, so since this was his last known address, they've been searching our building and neighborhood asking after him. They assured us he is a coward and would not be coming back here - Eric joked "to pick up his Ikea furniture perhaps." See, we have the rapist's bookshelf (thoroughly sterilized), and we're very attached to it. As in, we'd come back from the dead for it.
At any rate, I had to excuse myself to go move my car, and much like the time when I declined an invitation to come behind the pastry counter at my favorite bakery and "have whatever you want," I passed up the offer to be excused from any tickets I may receive should I fail to move my car. You don't really get a more perfect reason to not move your car... but unlike the pastry debacle (which GOD I still can't believe that was the one time in my life I got shy about pastry!) this would not have been immediate gratification, and instead would have been a pain in the neck to sort out.
When I got back I began packing (I'm leaving for NJ at 10am to visit with my grandmother & aunt who are flying in from Hawaii - woohoo!). Somehow Eric and I got into a debate about whether burping was, in fact, flatulence. He quipped, "A quick visit to Wikipedia should sort this out..." and lo, we stumbled into the funniest article I've ever read, as well as a potential career when I finish grad school.
Hahaha enjoy my flatus.
Leave a comment