I have been living in my apartment for over four years now. I honestly thought I knew everything about it. I was proven wrong today.
I got a call while at work this morning. I was not busy, so I listened to the voicemail that was left. I vaguely recognized the number, so I figured there would be a voicemail. It was the apartment manager calling to inform me there was an emergency with my apartment and they could not find the spare key and if I was unable to get there within the next fifteen minutes or so, they would be replacing the lock.
As one might imagine, I called back rather quickly. Their idea of an emergency left me a little annoyed. Granted, I can understand why it needed to be done. Apparently, there was a plumbing leak in the apartment above mine. Unknown to me until today, my apartment holds the cold water shutoff for the building I live in. I informed them I was at work and would not be able to get home until that afternoon, verified my apartment was not affected by the plumbling leak, and then okayed them to replace the lock, provided they took great care to make sure my cats did not get out. I was not worried about Colby or Chantico. They flee at the sound of anyone besides me entering the apartment. Cheddar, however, is another matter. I could easily see him pestering the maintenance guy who replaced the lock.
I breathed a sigh of relief when I opened the door to my apartment and was promptly greeted by three starving furrballs. They routinely insist that eight hours between checks on the food bowl are unacceptable, even if I happen to be out of the apartment the entire time.