called the cops

Alright, here goes.

The night before I went to my interview A, across the hall started her weird moaning again. She does it about every six weeks or so. Ok, imagine you have been sobbing to where your throat feels sore and you can’t take it anymore? That is the kind of moaning/sobbing she does. It is weird, she is mental. The first couple times it happened we didn’t say anything because, hey, it could have been the positive sort of moaning? Who knows really.

But last Wednesday night it turned into full blown screaming. Something had to be done. I didn’t want it on my head if we were listening to her kill herself and all we did was turn up the TV. So I called the cops (not 999 or 911, but the normal number) and explained what was going on. They said they would send someone out to do a welfare check on her. At this point I figured that would be… sometime within the next week? But no, ten minutes later I have three police officers at my door.

Rob and I went and hid in a friends flat, we really didn’t want A knowing we had called the cops on her, that would just start all sorts of trouble. So the cops went and knocked on her door, blah blah blah.

Then they came back down and told us she said she was fine, that she had just had, “a bit of bad news.” Okay, I don’t know about you, but I don’t scream at the top of my lungs and cry uncontrollably over “a bit of bad news.”

Whatever.

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