Call me P.I.

This morning while I was walking to my car, my neighbor, the one who cooks me all the wonderful goodies, caught me and gave the most delicious home made ginger snap I have ever had. It was huge! The size of a pancake.

Anyway, I stood there for a good bit just shooting the breeze with her, forgetting that I was now officially running late for real estate, and the whole time, all I could think about was the fact that I could not remember her name. Sarah and I had been battling over what it was for a while (well, at least a week anyhow).

After coming, late, and meekishly (word?) finding an open seat, I sat there in class. Half listening to the professor, trying to think of ways to find out what my amazing neighbor's name was. I had already asked the guy who lived in the unit prior to me, but he had no idea either. Grrr.

Then, a stroke of brilliance hit. We were talking about real estate closings and taxes...and I immediately though, tax assessors office! Of course. I know her address, she lives next to me, durh. All I had to do was enter the information and see what came up. Tada!

And, just so that it is here in writing... I was right! Sarah, her name is Melanie. Aha.

While I was on there, just for fun, I also looked up my unit. Eek! Its expensive and I officially have 1224 square feet to prance about. My landlady is also the original owner of the unit once it had been converted into a loft from the factory. I love knowing those little factoids.

Now, who else can I look up?