> not my problem. at all.

not my problem. at all.

2010-05-06 - jjackunrau

I’ve been out of my old condo for a month and a half and resigned from the condo corporation a month and it’s been great. Then tonight after I fell asleep watching hockey my phone rang.

“Wha? Za! Ba!” I answer it. It’s the property manager from the condo. Apparently no one told him I’d resigned. “Are you home?” he asks, and because I’m fuzzy from the nap I say yes. Someone’s locked out of the building and he wants me to go let the person in. Oh. Well. I think, sure, I can do that. I’m only a block away and I’m sure they haven’t changed the keyless code. I’m putting on my shoes.

“I mean, you got home. I don’t know what his problem is.” And the fuzziness catches up with me. I don’t have to do this. I shouldn’t have even said I could. What the fuck am I doing? I momentarily feel for people who go back to bad relationships.

“Oh,” the manager says, “So how’s your selling going?” And I have to explain that I’m not there, it’s sold and I don’t know why no one told him. It also means they probably haven’t paid their bills. He apologizes but I still say I can go over to the building and check the front door. I don’t know why I say this. I hate telephones so much.

I get there and it is the very front door that’s locked. The one before the keyless entry. I don’t have a key for that and there’s no one outside. I immediately turn around and come home. I think the person who’d called the property manager might have been in a car across the street, because a horn honked as I left.

condo corporation fuzzy brain hockey locks phone property manager sleep