Hey y’all! I just had the most frightening and embarrassing moment ever! And wanted to share because what is humiliation if it isn’t public? LOL. So, the hubster flew out to New York today for business leaving me alone with Shira, the Westie. All was fine: my IT buddy came by my apartment and fixed my laptop so I could access the net (free manpower, i heart you E), I had a cold beer to my left and was pinning ’til my fingers cramped. And then it happened. The Squeak. Yes. Do you see where this is heading?
I close out one tab on my computer thinking that an ad is playing in the background. Squeak. No, that’s not the source. I closed another tab. Sq-ueak! I closed my laptop. SQUEAK!
I looked over at Shira, my fifteen pound guard dog, and she was freaking out whining. I started panting. “Oh, my word! Of course this would happen as soon as he leaves. We’re infested!” I dialed up emergency maintenance at my apartment complex, which they should think about having a separate number for because it took five minutes to get to the option, and freaked out. My message was along the lines of “there…are…squeaks! squeaks coming from the vent. I don’t know if its a bat, or a rat. It’s some sort of woodland creature I think. Please hurry!”
I put on the only pair of shoes in the living room, my turquoise flip flops, they looked darling with my flannel pajamas and my purse (not) as I gathered Shira and promptly left the apartment. I got downstairs and realized that I didn’t have anywhere to go and trudged back upstairs. In the five minute span it took for me to leave my apartment, come back and make Shira escort me to the bedroom, my knight in rubber gloves showed up. The maintenance man.
We’re standing in the living room and my uninvited guest is keeping mum, so he turns the air on to “freeze him out”. Nope. Still quiet. And then we hear it. Squeak. I felt vindicated because someone else heard it too.
Insert *happy dance* you ask? Nope. The culprit got quiet and started again five minutes later. This time followed by a thud. I thought that we made him angry and he was “hulking out” in my ceiling. Then we heard it…the hammer…followed by a hum…which in turn was followed by the squeak. Turns out, my woodland creature was a drill. I couldn’t apologize enough for dragging him out of his house at 10:30PM for a drill.