Actually, Enrique, I do. (Random song reference there...sorry.) Anyway, when I arrived home from a trip the other day, I tried to open the gate to my apartment compound, only to find that my key wouldn't fit in the padlock.
I checked to make sure I was using the correct key, which I was. Weird. Then I noticed a tiny note taped to the door that told me to ring my neighbor's bell so she could come let me in and give me a new set of keys. Turns out, a bunch of stuff was stolen from another one of my neighbors, so my landlord had to change the lock on the gate. (Side note: isn't the Tibetan sun on my gate kind of cool? It's really helpful when giving directions to people who've never been to my apartment before.)
The funny thing is, this is not the first time I've come home to discover that my locks have been changed. When I was living in Texas, I found the locks on the doors to my apartment had been replaced after a major creeper/borderline stalker had gone into my apartment...using keys he still had from when his mother was the manager of the apartment complex. Incidentally, at the time, his mother was in prison for embezzling money from the apartment complex. Yeah.
So, as I mentioned earlier, Enrique, I feel you, I really do. On that note, I'll leave you with a bit of musical genius, a la Mr. Iglesias himself:
I loved those apartments. I didn't know about your creeper (which is super creepy that he let himself in), but the apartments, especially under the non-jailed or embezzeling Raquel, were fantastic. I miss the price most of all.
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