So I went up to our storage unit this morning to put some things in. I go through the gate, to the building, open the door and enter the hallway of roll-up doors and I hear music.
And not just any music, but the saddest Billie Holiday song I have ever heard. The exact kind of song I would expect to hear from someone who was living in one of the units.
I wander up and down the hall to see if I can figure out which unit it may be coming from only to find that it is being piped into the hallway through recessed speakers from somewhere else.
OK. Kinda creeped out at the strangeness, but I start to unload my stuff from the truck anyway.
I’m putting the last load away and I hear footsteps. It’s the property manager doing his rounds. I mention the music and he said that the speakers were always there, but because it was low on the priorities list, it took them almost a year to figure out why they wouldn’t work.
I mentioned that they could play something a bit more upbeat as the last three tunes had been from a very strung out Holiday who couldn’t even make “Come Fly With Me” sound cheerful. He apologized and said that he thought it was mellow music to wake wake up to and that there usually wasn’t anyone around to listen at this time of the morning on a Sunday.
Aieeeee, lonely property manager listens to the most depressing Billie album to wake up? I’ll make sure not to stop by after dark from now on.
If you find Hester Moffett’s cache of stored belongings anywhere in that facility, be sure to tread carefully in the old limo.
Just a “heads” up.
Whilst prowling around there on a dark morning, keep the nostrils open for the particular smell of meth chemicals, I’m sure you recognize them by now….
I’ll keep my nose open for a better grade of tequila, always on the hunt….