That was weird

You know all of those fake-ass warning stories they tell to women, like "once a woman heard a baby cry on her porch but she thought it was weird so she called the cops and the cops were all DON'T A RAPIST HAS BEEN IMPERSONATING A CRYING BABY TO LURE FOOLISH BABY-LOVING WOMEN LIKE YOU RIGHT INTO HIS CLUTCHES and the woman is all PHEW I could have been raped"???

Yeah. I hate those urban-legends-passed-as-true stories. Oh, but one of them sort of happened to me tonight.

At around 10 tonight, Boyfriend and I are on the couch. The buzzer rings. Now, we live on a second floor apartment facing the street, and we can look out the window and see people at the door. But sometimes I think it's better to not look out the window and reveal yourself to whoever is at the door. 'Cause if it's some cute kids selling candy for school you look like a big scrooge when you drop the curtain and walk away. Anyway, for this reason, I asked who it was over the intercom before I looked out the window.

"Package for apartment two."

Um, okay. It's 10 pm, and we are not expecting a package. There's one other apartment on my floor, so I ask which apartment it's for.

"It just says two."

Okay. This is shady. Now I ask who's name is on it.

"It doesn't say."

Now I'm definitely not buzzing them in. Boyfriend glances out the window, and goes across the hall to see if our neighbor is perhaps expecting something. I push the "talk" button once more, and tell the person to hold on for a minute.

Silence on the other end.

I cross the room and look out the window. No one is at our gate.

The neighbor doesn't answer and Boyfriend comes back. I ask him if he saw someone standing at the gate when he looked. He had. Did they have a package? No. Were they in a uniform? No. What was he wearing? It was someone in a dark blue hoodie, with the hood up.

Nice. My night almost turned into a cautionary tale, doomed to eternal circulation in emails from well-meaning aunts.

So, at this point the guy was gone, but I felt unsettled knowing that some guy is in our neighborhood ringing buzzers and trying to get into apartments. His motive could be anything, really. It's cold out tonight, so maybe he's just trying to find a warm place to sleep. Or maybe he's trying to rob the shit out of someone. Honestly, I'm not much of a gambling woman, so I'd rather not try my luck. We called the cops, and made a report. The cops can't do anything, but it will ease my conscience if I read in the paper tomorrow that a guy in a dark blue hoodie killed a family of five by ringing their buzzers and pretending to have a package. At least I let someone know.

The best part of all this was that the cops who stopped by were waaaaay more interested in our house bunny than in making a report. They didn't even write anything down. Which I get, because legally speaking, nothing happened. But when I apologized for bothering them they were very sincere in assuring us that we had done the right thing.

All the-call-is-coming-from-inside-the-house stories aside, I will be out of town for a few days, so no bloggity bloggin'. But don't try to rob me if you've been stalking me, because my fierce attack bunny will be holding down the fort. Hell, he nibbled on one of the cop's shoes. He's that hard.