I recently called my wonderful apartment office, wondering when the hell they would fix the disaster that is my toilet. They also haven't gotten around to fixing my garage door, but I'm not complaining on that one. I always feel bourgeois when I slide into my garade while others must step out of their cars and open their doors manually. Take your time and let my guilt fade. Anyways, the woman on the phone asked for my apartment number, paused and said "Oh cool, it's Brett. Hi Brett, how's your cat situation?"
I have no recollection of talking to this person about my monstrous cat situation. I'm not even sure who it was I was talking to, but I only put signs up about the devilish Queen of all Cats. So how do the leasing people know about her? My guess is that by day she leaves the apartment, terrorizes the neighborhood, and returns to terrorize my own animals. My name may be coming up in local curses, spread far and wide across the estates.
Of course, this woman could always just be making casual conversation. They may have some ginormous database filled with residents likes and dislikes. Still, it's always nice to be remembered.
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