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Friday, August 5, 2011

"Please leave, I'm naked."

The move-in date for my apartment complex is soon! Hurray! You know what that means don't you? (No, you don't)
CLEANING TIME YAAAY!


Management hires tons of people to come in and clean our apartment, whether we want them to or not.

I know what you're thinking. But Haley! That's sooo cool! People clean your home for free! YOU DON'T HAVE TO CLEAN IT YOURSELF.

Yea! That would be totally cool, and I cared SO MUCH that I didn't clean my apartment myself, and if it was a huge deal to me to pick up some stuff, sometimes. And most importantly, if they weren't totally rude and didn't just barge into our rooms.



It started yesterday morning.

I was woken up at around 9 AM, terrified that I was going to be raped and murdered, and that the apartment was going to be ransacked. After I got through the initial shock of hearing strangers banging around in my home, I figured out it was probably maintenance coming to fix the AC. LOL THAT WAS SILLY OF ME. They don't fix anything EVER. I should have known it wasn't them.

A couple hours later when Jason got home from school, I groggily asked him "Who are those people?" To which he replied "They're cleaners. They're cleaning the stove and stuff."
"Well they're loud and I hate them!" I cried, and tried to go back to sleep.

For the next two hours or so, I tried to sleep. Every time I'd drift off, one of the cleaners would bang something, or drop something, or yell, and I'd wake up.
THEN
AND THEN
A lady knocked on Jason's door, opening it immediately. Because that's the purpose of knocking on a door. Simply to announce your entrance; not to request permission to come in.
When she saw that we were "sleeping," (I was pretending because I didn't want to acknowledge her existence), and she hopefully felt like a huge pervert, she left. But still. What if we were naked?


So life continued like this for hours.
At about 1 PM, they cleaned the bathroom in the vacant bedroom of our apartment and left.
It was at this time that I noticed the six or so blinds they somehow managed to tear down from the sliding glass door and didn't put back up, the giant shoe prints on the kitchen tile, that they had opened a new kitchen sponge for whatever reason because it's not like they washed our dishes, and that they had thrown away the recycling we had in the laundry room. My only guess on why they threw out our recycling is that they thought we were just hoarding empty plastic bottles and cardboard, and that they were helping us improve our psychological state by getting rid of it.



Most importantly, though, what if we had been naked?



And this morning.

This morning when I had just gotten out of the shower, I thought I heard voices in the apartment, so I turned down my music. I was correct; there was a person shouting something. I went to the door in my room and listened: "Carpet cleaning! Hello! Carpet cleaning, hello!" I locked my bedroom door and went back into the bathroom, turning on the fan and locking that door.

The carpet cleaning man entered my room (they give all the cleaning people master keys to everything).
I was trapped.

He had to have known I was in there because I was making loud noises, messing with the hairdryer and the cabinets, and for God's sake the fan and lights were on in the bathroom. But he still cleaned the carpet for ten minutes.

Don't get me wrong. I love clean floors. I really do appreciate that they hired people to clean the carpets because they're so dirty and the vacuum we have doesn't work all that well. But SERIOUSLY. Okay, he announced his presence, unlike the cleaning people who were here yesterday, but he still stayed in my room when he had to have known I was trapped in my bathroom.

And once again.
What if I was naked?
And I was.  I was naked, hiding in my bathroom because some stranger, who was potentially a rapist, was in my bedroom, cleaning the floor when I never asked for this to be done, and none of us were ever even told it was being done.

I still feel violated.

As I was cowering in my bathroom, I angrily texted my sister what was happening. She suggested I ask him to leave. Normally this would make sense, but. Really. "Please leave, I'm naked," is even more awkward than staying in my safe bathroom while he does what he came to do.


She also suggested I put signs on my bedroom door, which I just might do.














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