Definitely not condoms.
So I live in Container City on campus -- basically a complex of eighteen or so side by side trailers with individual bathrooms and kitchens. It's kinda great. Except for the fact that I will wake up with used condoms outside my doorstep every morning, the number depending on how particularly virile my neighbor was feeling the previous night.
The first day it happened, I was sufficiently grossed out, side-stepped around it, and went on my ward rounds with the sole intent of bringing home a box of gloves so that I could de-condom my front step.
The next day it happened again, only there were three used condoms. (If I weren't so grossed out, I might be suitably impressed by his sex drive. Perhaps even glad that even if he was stupid enough to be throwing condoms out his door instead of in the trash, that he was, at the very least, using protection. But as it is, I was just grossed out. Very grossed out.)
So every day, I would pull on some gloves and a week's worth of newspaper and gingerly push and prod the used condoms back to his side and under his step.
After about four days of this happening, I couldn't take it anymore. I would have to say something.
But you know me. I'm passive aggressive. So, Jean and I came up with the most awesome prank during one particularly intense ward discussion on a patient that was completely in Afrikaans, and hence, completely incomprehensible to us. The plan was this -- we would each pull on five pairs of gloves, douse our arms in antibacterial spray, and with the help of some scotch tape, we'd put up all of his used condoms onto his door frame. They were, after all, just sitting in pile under his door.
I mean, if that didn't teach him a lesson, well then -- he might have Asperger's.
Only trouble is, the day we decided to do it, as I walked back to my container, a blond European guy saw me, and hurried over to say hello and introduce himself. Apparently, my sex-crazed neighbor had moved out, and this new, very polite guy, had just got in that morning, and was wondering if I could possibly show him how to use the stove?
I excused myself hastily to call off our terrible prank, and hoped to God that he hadn't noticed the giant pile of condoms at his doorstep. And prayed to all things holy that he didn't think that those were mine.
He never mentioned it. Halle-freaking-lujah. He was either the most socially aware guy ever, or the most oblivious.
