Now be honest with me: do these two sets of keys look alike?
No, you say? Not even just a little bit? Still no, huh? Okay, even if there's the slightest possibility that they somehow resemble each other, no matter how miniscule it is, please tell me. Well, they are both keys, you say. And they're both on a keychain. Right. Thanks for all your help. I know that much. Winnipeg may have killed a few brain cells, but dammit, I still have some left!
Well, I'm just going to pretend that they are alike. Like twins in fact. Identical twins. Not fraternal, identical. IDENTICAL. You got that? Which is why, when I picked up the keys on the right (KOTR) I thought I was picking up Winnipeg keys, and not, in fact, Toronto keys which belong to an apartment in Toronto that I haven't lived in for over nine months and which now belongs to some other crazy tenant who has hopefully changed his or her locks since I still have their keys and could theoretically walk in at any moment. Why do I still have these keys, you ask? What? I can't hear you! Lalalalalalalalalala....
Which is also why, after a long, hot day of shopping, I come home and fish out of my bag...KOTR, also known as Toronto keys. Fuck. Fuckity-fuck. I try and try to jam these keys into the lobby door, but no luck. Some nice person opens the lobby door for me, even though I look like a raving lunatic, what with all the jamming of keys into locks going on (note: must speak to manager about building security) and so I walk over to my front door and try to jam Toronto keys into my Winnipeg door. Again, no luck.
It's after six. There's no way the manager's office is still open. I'm stuck outside until citrusboy gets home. AT ONE THIRTY IN THE MORNING. Crap. I decide to trudge over to the office anyway, just in case. And, miracle of miracles, it's actually still open. I go in and explain my idiotic plight to a woman who's about 60, yet still sports spikey blond hair. She looks at me like I'm an axe murderer.
Winnipeg Damsel says: Hi, I forgot my keys and I was wondering if you could let me in. It's building blah and apartment blip.
Spikey Blond Hair says: *Dirty look* Do you have ID?
I pull out my Ontario driver's license.
WD: My name's on the lease if you want to check.
SBH: Uh huh *incredibly sarcastic tones* How long have you lived here? You should really get a Winnipeg driver's license. Soon.
I resist the urge to scream: WHAT THE FUCK FOR??? We don't even OWN a CAR!!!!!!!
And off she goes to photocopy it and then makes me sign my life away beneath the little crappy black and white ink copy.
SBH: So how did you close the door behind you when you left if you don't have any keys?
WD: I left with my husband and he closed the door.
SBH: So when does your husband get home?
WD: After one AM.
SBH: ONE AM?!? *looks at me like I'm a lying bitch*
WD: Yes. He. Works. Until. Then. *Do you bloody well mind? My. Name. Is. ON THE LEASE!!!*
SBH: Okay. You can start walking back to your apartment. I'll meet you there.
WD: Thanks. *No sarcasm intended. Really*
I walk back. Halfway there, I see her drive by in her car. Cow.
I meet up with her in the lobby.
SBH: You know you're getting new neighbors?
WD: Really? Wow, someone finally took the place - that's great!
SBH: Actually they've been there for awhile now.
WD: Oh. Well, I didn't even notice them moving in. *giggle*
SBH: *Dirty look* I bet. *I've just let in a crazy person into someone's apartment. Whatever*
She opens the door and finally leaves. Gawd! I hate you, Winnipeg, and your crazy-ass apartment managers. This isn't The Ropers, you know.
So while I was in the office, waiting for Spikey Blond Hair to get off her ass, one person comes in and says "We're moving out next month...blah blah blah". They're from my building. Five minutes later, another person comes in and says "We're moving out tomorrow...blip blip blip". Also from my building. Is there something I should know? Other than: Don't pick up KOTR, aka Toronto keys, when you mean to pick up KOTL, aka Winnipeg keys. Even though they look exactly the same.
Well, I'm just going to pretend that they are alike. Like twins in fact. Identical twins. Not fraternal, identical. IDENTICAL. You got that? Which is why, when I picked up the keys on the right (KOTR) I thought I was picking up Winnipeg keys, and not, in fact, Toronto keys which belong to an apartment in Toronto that I haven't lived in for over nine months and which now belongs to some other crazy tenant who has hopefully changed his or her locks since I still have their keys and could theoretically walk in at any moment. Why do I still have these keys, you ask? What? I can't hear you! Lalalalalalalalalala....
Which is also why, after a long, hot day of shopping, I come home and fish out of my bag...KOTR, also known as Toronto keys. Fuck. Fuckity-fuck. I try and try to jam these keys into the lobby door, but no luck. Some nice person opens the lobby door for me, even though I look like a raving lunatic, what with all the jamming of keys into locks going on (note: must speak to manager about building security) and so I walk over to my front door and try to jam Toronto keys into my Winnipeg door. Again, no luck.
It's after six. There's no way the manager's office is still open. I'm stuck outside until citrusboy gets home. AT ONE THIRTY IN THE MORNING. Crap. I decide to trudge over to the office anyway, just in case. And, miracle of miracles, it's actually still open. I go in and explain my idiotic plight to a woman who's about 60, yet still sports spikey blond hair. She looks at me like I'm an axe murderer.
Winnipeg Damsel says: Hi, I forgot my keys and I was wondering if you could let me in. It's building blah and apartment blip.
Spikey Blond Hair says: *Dirty look* Do you have ID?
I pull out my Ontario driver's license.
WD: My name's on the lease if you want to check.
SBH: Uh huh *incredibly sarcastic tones* How long have you lived here? You should really get a Winnipeg driver's license. Soon.
I resist the urge to scream: WHAT THE FUCK FOR??? We don't even OWN a CAR!!!!!!!
And off she goes to photocopy it and then makes me sign my life away beneath the little crappy black and white ink copy.
SBH: So how did you close the door behind you when you left if you don't have any keys?
WD: I left with my husband and he closed the door.
SBH: So when does your husband get home?
WD: After one AM.
SBH: ONE AM?!? *looks at me like I'm a lying bitch*
WD: Yes. He. Works. Until. Then. *Do you bloody well mind? My. Name. Is. ON THE LEASE!!!*
SBH: Okay. You can start walking back to your apartment. I'll meet you there.
WD: Thanks. *No sarcasm intended. Really*
I walk back. Halfway there, I see her drive by in her car. Cow.
I meet up with her in the lobby.
SBH: You know you're getting new neighbors?
WD: Really? Wow, someone finally took the place - that's great!
SBH: Actually they've been there for awhile now.
WD: Oh. Well, I didn't even notice them moving in. *giggle*
SBH: *Dirty look* I bet. *I've just let in a crazy person into someone's apartment. Whatever*
She opens the door and finally leaves. Gawd! I hate you, Winnipeg, and your crazy-ass apartment managers. This isn't The Ropers, you know.
So while I was in the office, waiting for Spikey Blond Hair to get off her ass, one person comes in and says "We're moving out next month...blah blah blah". They're from my building. Five minutes later, another person comes in and says "We're moving out tomorrow...blip blip blip". Also from my building. Is there something I should know? Other than: Don't pick up KOTR, aka Toronto keys, when you mean to pick up KOTL, aka Winnipeg keys. Even though they look exactly the same.
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