Telephone! Internet?

I got home from work on Monday and noticed a small pile of newspapers on the corner of my bed visible from the hall. Hadn’t I left those on the corner of the couch, where I was reading them the night before? Indeed, I got the sinking sensation that someone had moved them. And someone had.

I walked into the living room and noticed the couch pulled away from the wall. On the floor next to it was a cordless phone hooked to a jack. After scanning the room to make sure no one was still there, I picked up the handset and heard a dial tone. I was so excited that I got out my international card and immediately called mom and dad.

Mom’s first question about the phone was, of course, what’s your number? Well, I hadn’t really gotten that far. But I soon discovered that I had no idea what the number is – and still don’t. Whoever broke into my apartment to hook up the phone neglected to leave any such information behind.

But whoever it was did feel compelled to make a comment about my housekeeping. I keep the dish soap under the kitchen sink until I need it. The sink was full of used glasses – I don’t bother cleaning each glass immediately after using it – and anyway it’s a small sink so 6 glasses looks like a lot more than it really is. When I walked into the kitchen I noticed the dish soap perched, precariously and improbably, on the narrow strip of counter in front of the sink.

The next time someone breaks in – maybe to hook up the internet - I hope they have the decency to just steal something and leave the editorializing to someone else.