Towel Mountains

We are still dealing with the aftermath of our apartment flooding last week. The linen closet has yet to be be painted so everything that was inside the closet is hanging out on the dining room table.

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Our favorite neighbor stopped by today to give me some roach bait that she had promised to give me. I didn’t really want it, because we have fantastic bait that we use, but she was forcing her kindness on me and I had to accept.

She rang the bell while I was on a work video call and I excused myself and went to get the door. There was a cardboard tray in her hand with the bait labeled in juice bottle caps.

As she was explaining what to do, my mind started wondering back to the conference call I was missing, and I snapped back into the conversation when my neighbor started screaming and running towards the stairwell.

I yelled, “Ms. Levy, what’s wrong?”

She was cowering halfway down the hallway, pointing into our apartment. Her reaction was so dramatic I thought she had seen a murderer or a ghost in our apartment.

Having this realization, I turned around to make sure I was safe and I saw my orange cat sitting there staring out the door at this screaming woman.

I laughed because it was all so ridiculous. She was upset that I laughed and she yelled, “I’m afraid of cats. I’ve got to go.”

As she scrambled up the stairs, I shut the door and hid the bait in a high place so the cats couldn’t get at it. I returned to my laptop, I saw that I hadn’t muted my microphone and everyone on the meeting most likely heard the whole ordeal.

They were kind enough to not say anything.

After a few hours I found a note under my door from my neighbor explaining the bait and the post script said: “I don’t like cats. I don’t know why, I just never have.”

The culprit: