Hi, Maintenance

The maintenance people in my apartment complex have the worst timing.

This afternoon, after a crazy-busy morning, I decided to take a nap. Nothing big, just an hour or so to get me back to center. I'm woken up shortly thereafter by loud, open-the-fuck-up-it's-the-cops-style pounding on my front door and someone shouting, "housekeeping!" like a drill sergeant.

In my still sleep-addled state, my mind comes up with Schwarzenegger in an apron. Quite seriously. Not a great image, but a hell of a wake-up call.

Now, my complex may be nice, but complimentary housekeeping isn't part of the package. However, if they were who they said they were, that meant they had a key to my apartment and I was not exactly dressed for company. I flung myself out of bed and ran to the front door to keep it locked until I could figure out what was going on.

Me: Uh, hi, can I help you?

Housekeeping: Housekeeping!

Me: ... Since when do I have housekeeping?

Housekeeping: We're here to clean your bathroom.

Me: Um, that's really not ... necessary ...

Housekeeping: It's just the OU Housing department's way of saying thank you for being such a loyal tenant for the past three years.

Me: Oh. Well that's really nice and all ... um ... I'm wearing a bedsheet right now, ma'am.

Housekeeping: Oh. Um ... we'll come back in five minutes.

So they left me to make myself presentable - while the whole bedsheet-as-gown-look may be very early-cinema starlet, it really wasn't doing it for me.

Apparently, I have in fact earned myself a weekly bathroom cleaning because of my loyalty to the OU Housing system. Which is seriously not necessary, but I'm really not sure how to tell them I can Pine-Sol my own toilet.

Note to self: no more napping on Thursdays.