AlexandraLynch
Posts: 778
Joined: 3/24/2008 Status: offline
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When my husband and I were first married, there was a house converted into apartments, one up one down, across the street. The upstairs apartment was tenanted by a Hispanic couple. Their entertainment on the weekends appeared to be getting drunk. Apparently, as she drank, she remembered every single thing he'd done wrong in the past week, and they would argue, and she'd lock him out of the house. He would shrug, walk over to his brother's house, and then walk back home when sober so as to get his work uniform. And he would walk over to our house and ask to borrow our extension ladder, so as to get back into his apartment through the window. Finally, my husband said, "Hey, you know where it is, put it back when you're done with it." About a year and a half after we moved in, I was startled by a knock on the door, and opened it to find a policeman on the other side. "Excuse me, ma'am," he said, "but can we borrow your ladder?" I was then treated to the spectacle of a policeman attempting to fit through a small window on the second floor while wearing his utility belt. I was much amused. (She had called her sister and said that she had taken an overdose, and wouldn't respond to phone calls or knocking. He worked for the city, and was out and not quickly contacted to get his door key. The police, learning of her husband's method of entry on Sundays, decided to follow suit.)
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