I Fought the Law

Blood on the Walls

Dr. M and I signed the lease on our shiny new apartment today. This involved hanging around the management office for fifteen minutes being ignored by the receptionist while she helped someone else (we didn't expect her to drop everything and help us, but eye contact would have been nice) before going over the lease with the new manager, who is a carbon copy of Philip Seymour Hoffman's character from The Big Lebowski. The manager is very nice, has been on the job for two weeks, and is already dealing with the difficulties of a company that refuses to update its forms and a receptionist who couldn't find her ass with both hands (in addition to her inability to acknowledge the presence of anyone she's not already talking to, this woman was previously outsmarted by Mapquest when we asked her to look up directions during our initial visit).

In any case, the new apartment is generally great. It has brand new everything, which is very exciting. The only "repair"-type problems we identified were (1) a light in one of the bathrooms that doesn't light up and (2) a window in the master bedroom that doesn't close all the way. Both of these problems are hopefully being addressed as we speak. A third problem, which should be easier to address but is significantly more disturbing, was the discovery of random bloodstains at various points in the apartment, including the walls of the second bedroom, the walls of the master bathroom, the front door, the oven, and one of the thermostats. It looked like one of the contractors cut their finger and didn't do anything about it until after they had left the apartment (hence the blood on the door), and also managed to bleed all over the goddamn apartment before leaving. Very curious. When we returned to the management office with the results of our inspection I teed up the blood-related news with "Boy, are you going to love your new job."

And now, the concluding lines of the opening scene of a hypothetical episode of CSI based on our blood discovery:

Warrick: Why would somebody leave bloodstains all over a brand new apartment?
Grissom: Guess they couldn't afford a fruit basket.
[Cut to theme song.]

Posted by hb at September 19, 2007 12:58 PM