I have fond memories of renovating the second apartment in that building. It was late in the evening and my husband at the time had planned to pop by to do a few quick things. When he entered the apartment it smelled of french fries, which were still warm inside the stove. And I had not made them. He quickly looked around the apartment and there was evidence that someone had decided to use the facilities, having shaved in the bathroom sink, and dropped the kids off at the pool, without flushing. Very nice indeed. Welcome to Vanier he thought, flushed the toilet and rinsed out the sink, ready to continue renovating. While he was working in the master bedroom he noticed something wedged on the top of the closet door that hadn’t been there before. Weird, he thought. As he got closer to have a look he realized the thing wedged was actually a pair of fingers… belonging to the person hiding inside the closet.
Backing up slowly, he had the thought that most of us would have in this crazy scary situation. I’LL CALL MY WIFE, and ask what I should do now. And that’s exactly what he did, with a hammer in his hand of course. You can imagine my shock, and all I remember saying to him was ‘And why in the hell are you calling me instead of the cops?’ Come honestly.
As per my direction he told Mr. Closet to get out. Our visitor exited out the window as I imagine was how he entered it in the first place.
No comments:
Post a Comment