You Know that Moment...?

So I'm at a hotel here in Sidney, not naming names, watching TV and just generally relaxing my tush off.

Maintenance*: Knock! Knock!

Me: Yes?

Maintenance: It's Maintenance, I'm here to check the floor and the bed, can I come in?

Me: Just a moment, let me put leashes on the dogs.

So Mr. Maintenance is at the door, and I do leash up the dogs. As I'm standing on the other side of the door, every email forward that warns about gas-station-ankle-slashings and shopping-mall-abductions and rich-African-princesses-with-exiled-fathers (not so much the last one) comes crowding into my mind. Perhaps this is only a trick. How do I know this man works for the hotel? Who cares about the floor and the bed? What's going on here?

So I walk into the hallway with the two leashed attack dogs and stand out there until Mr. Maintenance is finished. He thanks me, and then moves on to the next room. I lock myself in my room once again, wondering if the woman behind the front desk (who can totally be seen from the door of our room) thinks I'm nuts, or just the safest, most bestestly trained young woman (ha!) she's ever seen.

Once again, making my parents proud with every post...

* Edited because Stephan says that he is "Him" and no one else.