Just the highlights:
Large civil policeman with badge hanging from a chain around his neck, typing with two fingers as the delivery boy brings up the evening's pizza...
"Did he poop on your floor?" Um...no.
"Did he drink all your alcohol?" Nope. My wine is carefully stored in the only part of the house that doesn't get full sun. Under a chair covered by a gorgeous African cloth. By dusty fashion magazines and old schoolbooks.
"Why aren't you both married yet? Not to each other, to Brazilians! Too picky, that's what you are..." Huh. I think it's time to go home now...
Where else can you report a burglary and get love advice all wrapped up in one visit?
So thankful there was no POOP to clean up. Seriously.
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