Carbon Monoxide, you have been warned

As noted here, today was another in a long string of Me & Little Dude days while M-N goes off and does something either profitable or fun. (Today was fun.)

We live in an apartment that's part of a house. We have the first floor, and there's another apartment upstairs. Those people moved out a week ago, so it's just been us. Today, me and the boy were hanging out, listening to tunes, shredding documents, gnawing on teethers, vacuuming, chasing the cat, when I heard footsteps upstairs.

I first thought it was Nicole Kidman from The Others (that was a good movie). Then I thought it the people under the stairs from The People Under the Stairs (that was a bad movie). But Nicole Kidman's Australian, so it wasn't her. And the footsteps were upstairs, not under the stairs, so scratch that too.

It turns out, our absentee landlords were installing carbon monoxide detectors all over, and replacing smoke alarms. It also turns out that that's a law these days, and they were violating it. They're about to sell the place, and after an inspection, they decided to spend half an hour installing the things so the place will sell.

This led to an awkward conversation with one of the landlords as he installed the detector in our hallway and tried to act like he'd talked to me or been in the apartment more than twice (he didn't know how to turn the hall light on, if that's an indicator). The other landlord, whom I'll call Boo Radley, I still have yet to see. I heard footsteps, but I've seen enough movies to know better (plus this week's episode of Lost).

Anyway, now we're legal. Rock on.