I'm Soooo Mrs. Kravitz...

Not kidding, I couldn’t be the nosier neighbor right now. I’ve got nothing on Sandra Gould from “Bewitched” but god almighty I’m coming close to Mrs. Poole territory up here in the South End.

We have two basement apartments in our building. One is handicap accessible and the other a regular studio apartment. Can I just tell you that since they’ve built the handicrapper studio not one handicapped individual has lived there but that’s besides the point.

About 2 weeks ago I went through the basement to go out the back door. Noone really goes out the basement door unless they’ve parked on the street behind or they feel like running up and down the handi-ramp that was installed – you know… for fun. As I walk down the stairs I notice that the front apartment’s door is ajar – not wide open, but ajar. I figure the girl that lives down there must have run out to her car or whatever. Nothing big.

I come home that night, the door is still in the ajar position. Huh. I continue on upstairs. About 2 days later I head back down and the friggin’ door is still sitting there ajar. I begin to wonder if she moved, you never know. I leave.

About 3 days later I come into the building through the basement and as I am walking up notice that the door is now like halfway open and I can see a bed and a desk and assorted furnishings. What the hell is going on down here?

I knock on the door. No answer. I knock again. Nothing.

Now I’ve seen so many “Cold Case”, “CSI”, “L&O” episodes to know I am chartering in dangerous water but I press forward… on the door. No body by the bed, phew! “Hello?” I call out. No answer. I look around for evidence of broken or stolen items. There’s no unusually empty while portion of the rug where a tv maybe once was, nor is there a dusty rectangle on the wall from wence a frame once lived. Nothing seems awry. I shut to door with my sleeve covering my hand as to leave no fingerprints. Hey, if there is a dead corpse under the bed or in the tub I’m not gonna be linked to it. Hell to the No!

I head on over to the Management Company for our building. I tell Kelly the lazy eyed and unfortunate of teeth agent that covers our building my snooping story. She agrees to send someone over.

That night when I get home from the hospital I notice that the door is shut! Victory.

Jump forward two days and I go to leave out the basement door and notice that the damn door is once again ajar. What is going on? There are no marks on the door, no sign of forced entry. I knock. Nothing. I leave for the day, I gots no time for these cat and mouse games.

I come home that night, that stupid door is half open again. Do we have squatters? Is Gay Ricky in there with a homeless Juliana Hatfield? Did someone just steal Angela Chase’s boots? What the what-is-going-on-already?

I completely forget about it until the next day when I notice that the door is shut again. I know there’s no wind in that basement and to my knowledge rats do not have opposable thumbs but whatever – it’s closed. What is that god awful stench down here?

Two days later… Jon just calls and tells me that the door is open again. He went down to move the car before the street sweepers came and noticed that the door was once again ajar. Oh he did more than knock; he went in and walked around! I hope he had plastic booties on over the soles of his shoes – I know what Marg Helgenberger can do…

There was no dead blonde girl rotting under the dust ruffle – as far as he could tell. But damn, that smell was getting stronger and stronger – you could smell it on the second floor.

Oh Mrs. Kravitz is on it! I called up layz eyes and told her about the door again. I prefaced the convo with… “I don’t want to sound like the crazy snoopin’ neighbor and I know this is not 227 but that fucking door is wide open again! Did you ever send someone over? Did you ever call the girl that lives there? Did you hear anything? What’s the contingency plan for dead coeds in your apartments?”

After a minute or two of baffled silence a sound comes from behind those broken fence like teeth! “Oh I’m going to kill those rental agents…” Mystery solved folks – the stupid ass rental agents are showing that stinky cesspool smellin’ basement apartment and just leaving without shutting or locking that door. Lazy Eyed Picket Fence was pissed and swore to get to the bottom of it.

Let me get this straight, for almost 3 weeks this poor girl has been away on vacation and for most of those 3 weeks her apartment has been wide open for the world to see and pillage? It’s not beyond me to head on down there once she returns and fill her in (Ms. Huber style) on what went down. If any of her shit is missing, its lawsuit city! I loves it. And who in their right mind would rent that place with the smell of rotting flesh lingering. Are we sure that chicks on holiday?