Family Business

I had been living in a new country for about 4 months, and it was beginning to get a bit cold outside. Unfortunately, the heat in my apartment was not working. My roommate and I had been telling our coaches and management this for awhile. After a snowfall and several weeks of wearing a full sweat suite/ double socks to sleep every night, they decided it was time to take action/ Two different coaches came to the apartment (without warning) in an attempt to fix the problem. There was no luck so they finally decided to call a plumber.

The plumber was scheduled to come to my apartment the next morning while we were at practice. When I returned from training, the heat was still broken. I assumed he attempted and failed like the others. A couple of hours later, I awoke from a nap to a strange series of events.

First, the doorbell rang (which was unusual enough considering I NEVER had visitors). When I looked through the peep hole on my door, I was surprised at what I saw on the other side. A family. A woman, a child of about 6 years old, and a man holding a tool box. Was this the plumber? Only one way to find out...open the door. Right? Wrong. They spoke no English. But I'm a wise young woman, so I decide I'll just let them in anyway. What's the worst that could happen?

The source of the heating issue was in my bedroom, so I proceeded to lead this entire family there (still unsure if this was actually the plumber). The wife and child felt perfectly comfortable sitting on my bed while good ol' dad went to work on the heater (okay, good, he is in fact the plumber). Needless to say, I felt a tad uncomfortable, so I went to the kitchen to clean some dishes. Suddenly, I turn around to find the wife and child standing behind me. The woman asks me something in another language which I cannot understand. This doesn't stop her. She moves me aside and starts going through my utensil drawer. What does she pull out? A knife. A KNIFE! Not just a dull butter knife, but a full on butcher knife that I used to carve pumpkins with the day before. My thoughts in this moment were, "what a sad and strange way for me to die. At the hands of a plumbers family who I willingly let into my home and with my own knife. I knew that child had a sick look in her eyes." Luckily, she just took the murder weapon out of the kitchen and into my bedroom, with her daughter skipping happily behind her.

Now, why was this knife necessary when he came to the apartment with a full toolbox? I suppose he didn't bring anything of use because when I peaked into my bedroom, he was using my kitchen appliances on the heater. I returned to the kitchen and about 15 minutes later, the woman came in and told me "warm is good," meaning that the heat was fixed. She then handed over the murder weapon and they all left while smiling and waving like distant relatives I see once a year.

In the end, I would say it was a great day. The heat in my apartment worked with no further problems and I didn't die.