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The Whistler...


As an apartment leasing person I deal with a great deal of crazy. There is the man who decided to bring his broken toilet seat and plop it on my desk. No, it was not clean. There are the girls who had a penis drawn on the outside of their bathroom window, which I discovered because I was visiting a tenant who I was trying to school on the appropriate amount of laundry detergent to put into her stackable NOT full size washer. I have my favorite tenant (she has recently moved because she bought a home...I miss her) who officially decided to take the D out of my name and replace it with another N. She is also the tenant who locked herself in her upstairs bedroom and was only rescued by waving the security guard down as he passed by on rounds! Oooo or the woman who wants me to make it a rule to not allow people to park backwards in their parking spots because the exhaust fumes may leak through the windows. The one who answers his door in his underwear or the one who stands entirely too close to you when you have to be round him but I have officially found one that has my imagination on overload...




The Whistler. I can hear him coming before he swaggers through the door because he is ALWAYS whistling. I'm going to have to pay more attention to the tune he whistles but it creeps me out. Alfred Hitchcock comes to mind. To further prove how warped my imagination is....he lives here through the week while he works then travels out of state on the weekend to be with his family. YEAH! Tell me this isn't the perfect set up for a serial killer!! It makes me want to go all Scooby Doo on him and look for skeletons in his pantry! I may or may not wear a cute toboggan and matching gloves (dark colors of course), sunglasses and all black to investigate. I wonder if I can get a funny sidekick to tag along?




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