A Place for Me and My Dude

I'm moving a few miles down the road soon, as I detailed earlier. Today, I decided to do a little bit of work on finding a new Powell Manor. The first step was calling an apartment locator. I'm not exactly sure how it works, but apartment locators will find you an apartment for free. Instead of getting paid, I think you just owe them a favor. A few months after you settle in and have all of your utilities turned on, you get a mysterious phone call in the middle of the night saying, "How's your apartment working out for you? Good to hear, good to hear. Now listen, I need a leasing manager killed. Don't leave any prints and we're even." And you just have to do it, because those are the unwritten rules of using an apartment locator.

Anyway, after I talked with the locator, he sent me a introductory email, saying who he was and what he'd look for. And then, at the end of the email, it said, "Thanks again and I look forward to assisting you and your husband." The rest of the email was tailored to me, so I am wondering how that last line snuck in there. Can't I just look for an apartment one time without getting hassled about my husband? Leave him out of it!

I just hope the apartment locator isn't so powerful that he can will all of that into existence. I'd be pretty busy then. Not only would I have to find some dude and fall in love with him, but I'd have to get gay marriage legalized. I'm sure there'd be all kinds of wedding and honeymoon crap to add on top of that. I'm thinking I should probably just call in sick for the next couple of weeks. And I'm definitely going to need some leather pants for this.

Also, I found my iPod. It was on my dresser. The sad part is that I use some of my furniture so infrequently, it was a lot more likely that it'd be stolen than on my dresser.