The Time The Guys Next Door Had Plywood Covering Their Door

On Saturday afternoon while Joey and Cuz were playing Rubik's cube in the study, I snuggled up in the chair with a book and read. After awhile I started noticing some hammering coming from outside, but I didn't really think much of it.

Joey came over about 10 minutes later.

"Are you pounding something?" He asked.

"Yes," I said, and pretended to pound the book against my knee.

He rolled his eyes at me and stepped out on the balcony to track down the hammering sound.

"Oh. My. Gosh. You have to come out here and look at this." Joey stage-whispered and waved feverishly to indicate that I must come now.

"What?" I asked, once out on the balcony. I didn't see anything unusual.

"Look over there, at the door just across the way." He pointed diagonally through the branches of the nice oak tree that shades our balcony in the summer but is currently leafless.

"Holy cows!" I crowed. "What is going on!"

The apartment door across the way had an enormous piece of plywood being nailed to it by two twenty-something guys wearing jeans and t-shirts.

"Do you think they got evicted? Is it a crime scene?" I asked, jumping up and down slightly. I have such an imagination.

"They probably didn't get evicted because those guys aren't wearing the uniform of the maintenance guys on the property. And it's not likely that it's a crime scene. I mean, they boarded the place up; they wouldn't do that if it was a crime scene." Joey is always more rational than I.

Cuz heard the commotion and he came over shortly. He too expressed interest in the goings-on across the way.

"I say one of you two go figure out what's going on," I demanded.

They both looked at me as though I had gone insane. They were clearly not going to go ask a couple of guys their own age what they were doing. I could see this meant I was going to have to take matters into my own hands.

"Well, if you won't then I will. I'm curious. I am going to go find out." I said. I picked up Henry and flounced out of the apartment and down the stairs.

Henry performed beautifully. I set him down in the grass, presumably to do his business, but he was more interested in what was going on across the way. He ran over and trotted right up the stairs where the guys were working at hammering in the last few nails on their massive plywood sheet.

"What, did your door break?" I asked, scooping up Henry and "chastising" him for interfering with strangers.

"Um....no..." they hedged. I could tell this was going to be good.

"This is our old roommates apartment," one guy offered. "And we're just playing a joke on him."

"Yeah," the other one jumped in, "He's at a bachelor party tonight and when he gets home in the morning he will be so hung over...it'll be hilarious."

Wow. Classy.

"Would you take a picture of us?" The first one asked, digging in his pocket for a camera.

You have got to be kidding me, I thought. But I gamely agreed to take several pictures. Unfortunately it was with their camera so I have none of them to post on my blog...but I took some of my own after they left, don't you worry.

They thanked me, packed up their stuff, slapped up a couple strips of "Caution" tape, and left.

I walked back in my own apartment very smugly and filled the boys in. We, of course, rushed out immediately to survey their handiwork. They were pretty good with a hammer, there were quite a lot of nails.The next afternoon we came upon two haggard looking guys prying off the plywood. They looked madder 'n a wet hen.

"Hey...you got it off!" Joey called to them, cheerfully.

"Some joke," the one mumbled.

We just laughed at them when we got inside. There are nail holes completely covering the space around their door. They are not getting their security deposit back; no way, no how.