The lunatic is on the grass
I just walked past an elderly gentleman wandering through the car park in his pajamas. His wife was bent over happily feeding the local stray cats something that looked like sauerkraut. I suspect that some levels of our building are being used as a home for the mentally ill. This could explain why the security guards seem more concerned with who comes out of the building than who is going in. Although, I still can’t fathom how it is that they couldn’t tell me where the local police station was, I guess their uniforms are authoritative enough to ward off any serious crime.
If the building doesn’t offer respite to the mentally challenged, then I must be an unwitting participant in a secret psychological experiment being conducted on foreigners. This would explain the statistically improbable number of random things that have broken or disappeared in the last two weeks, and the feeling that whenever I look out the window the security guards are looking straight at me. I just can’t find the hidden cameras.