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It's good to know there are concerned citizens...

One day, many months ago, I stopped by my boyfriend's house after work.

"Oooh, so clean," I said. "And it smells lovely."

"Yeah," J said, "I think Chip is showing it at 5:30."

"Oh, ok," I said. "I'm just going to get my stuff."

As I stood poised in the doorframe to walk downstairs, J grabbed me from behind in an attempt to pull me passionately to him. He frequently lavishes me with these enthusiastic and clumsy maneuveurs, which more often than not result in lumps and bruises. Predictably, as he oh-so-lovingly yanked my arm, my elbow flailed out and smacked against the doorframe. Perhaps I cried just a smidgen more more dramatically than was completely necessary, but friggin ow! "Owwwwww!!!" I wailed, and stalked indignantly downstairs to pout. At the bottom of the stairs I almost ran into a very concerned looking man. The plumber! Ack!

"Are you ok?" he asked.

"Oh, yeah," I mumbled, embarassed, looking away. Turned around to glare at boyfriend; I didn't know anyone was here! I shut myself in J's room to nurse my wounds, but the man's face stayed with me. He was just so... concerned. Why was he so concerned? I ran through the previous few moments' events in my head. Loud thud. Woman crying. Ow. Woman running down stairs. Boyfriend running after. Oh my god....he thinks J hit me! Cripes, how awkward.

I went in the living room and sat next to J on the couch, making pointedly casual conversation. See? It's all good here...nothing out of the ordinary...The plumber finished and said goodbye, perhaps eyeing us a bit suspiciously. J and I went into his bedroom to talk about what we both already knew.

"He thinks I'm a wife beater!" J exclaimed. "Or, a girlfriend beater...Why did you have to scream like that?"

"I didn't know anyone was here! I can't believe you didn't tell me he was here! And why do you always have to hurt me anyway? You always hurt me, you clutz!"

"Well if you wouldn't flail so much! If you would just relax and go with it you wouldn't get hurt!"

"Oh yeah? Let's see how much you like getting thrown around," I said coyly, pushing him backward onto the bed and straddling him. "How do you like that...?"

"I think he keeps walking past the window," J said.

"You're crazy!" I said, "now kiss me."

"I think I hear him outside. He's probably talking to Chip right now, telling him I beat my wife. Er, girlfriend."

"That could be anyone outside, babe. But you're right, we should get up. We don't want to, uh, surprise anyone on the 5:30 tour. Do you want to go to the grocery store with me?"

We made our way outside about 10 or 15 minutes later, and ran smack into...Landlord Chip and The Plumber. Talking, right outside the window. Of course.

"Oh, hey guys, how's it going? So, are you going to show the apartment now?" J said.

"Oh, it's already done, they really liked it," Chip said. "I was just standing here...I was going to...go back inside to...get something...I can't remember what right now..."

"Oh, ok, right on. Well...we're going to get going. Have a good night, guys," J said.

Inside the car I exploded into laughter. "I was going to go back inside to get something? I can't remember what?! He SO thinks you beat me!"

"I can't believe this..."

"Well, at least you're moving out in a few weeks!"