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Anyway. It was a nice, two story place with hardwood floors. This place was just a block away from a cool bar called "Parlay's," a nice grocery store, a neat little coffee shop with good breakfast, and a convenient gas station. We were just a quick hop off of the Interstate, and it was a reasonably quick jaunt over to the Quarter or Metairie. It was a bit expensive though, so after a couple of years I decided to get a cheaper place in Metairie. Well, I also decided to move out because my girlfriend left me (and her sister, who was living with us), and I was now in this huge place by myself. It took a few weeks to pack up all of my stuff since I am a bit of a pack rat. I had a bunch of stuff in the attic, and I put that off for last because I just hate crawling around in the heat and insulation. A couple of days before moving day I decided I finally had to go up there. I had never actually crawled up there, as I had just sort of scooted all of the boxes up there from the ladder. Unfortunately a bunch of them had been scooted pretty far back, so I had to climb up there to get them. I was really surprised by how roomy the attic was. It really seemed much larger than the room below it. I tend to be a pretty bad judge of relative scale, so I just blew it off. I started hauling boxes down the ladder, one at a time. As I got to the last few boxes waaaay back in the back, I became confused. They were really far back there, and I didn't remember putting anything that far back. I opened one of the boxes and realized that none of the stuff was mine. "Wow!" I thought, "The previous renters must have left this box here. There was a ton of cool loot in this box. There were nice rock glasses, some wine bottle openers, and a really really nice flask. I stuck the flask in my back pocket and dug through the box a little more. The light in the attic was extremely dim, and my body was casting a shadow over the box, making it difficult to see the contents. I shifted my body and moved my leg to take my shadow off of the box. My foot punctured a hole in the thin floor/ceiling between the boards, and my leg slipped into the hole. My entire body lurched over, and my leg fell through the hole all the way to my groin. I shouted in pain. A woman below me screamed in terror. I was in agony and totally confused. My girlfriend and her sister had moved out weeks ago. I was alone in the apartment. How was there a woman below me screaming? She kept screaming. I adjusted my weight, and my thigh tore a bigger hole in the ceiling. I was able to see below me. This wasn't my apartment. I was looking into my neighbors apartment. I experienced another few seconds of confusion while my neighbor screamed. Then it dawned on me. Our duplex shared an attic. I had inadvertently crossed over into her attic, rummaged through her shit, stolen her flask, and shoved my leg through her ceiling. No wonder she was screaming. "Holy shit," I said, "I'm sorry...I'll pay for the hole. I didn't know I was in your attic." I pulled my leg out of the hole just as her husband came in -- ready to kill someone. "It's me, John, from next door," I said as I pulled my leg up and surreptitiously snuck the flask out of my pocket and back into their box. Permalink to this post. |
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