First, a housing inspector came by for a routine check. Since our house isn't zoned for a stove, the landlady had us remove it from the kitchen… and put it in my roommate's room. To hide it, the landlady suggested throwing a sheet over it and covering it in laundry. "Just make it look like you're going through something," the landlady instructed. Sure enough, the inspector did not even ask about the massive pile, even though it must have been quite a sight to see a messy and inexplicably boxy mound in the corner of an otherwise meticulous room. "Going through something," indeed.
About the same time, our internet stopped working. After more than a week, we finally got a professional to come by to fix our router. I was the only one available to be home during the appointment, which I said was fine, until the guy asked me to tell him the internet password. You see, the password, which pre-dates my living in the house by years, is a combination of a slang term for a certain body part, the size of said body part, and a reference to a sex act thrown in for good measure. Yeah, it's a funny password to share amongst friends, but once I was faced with having to tell a stranger, I couldn't say it aloud, so I wrote it down instead.
I warned the internet guy that it was embarrassing and that someone else came up with it. He was young, so I hoped he would laugh, but when he looked at what I wrote on the pad, he made a disgusted face. "I swear it wasn't me!" I said defensively. Assuming it must have been the handiwork of my roommate whose name was connected to the account, he said, and I quote, "She must have been going through something."
That means in the span of just a week, two workers entered our house and were left to surmise that my roommate was "going through something". I can only hope that this trend continues.