Slowly Building Towards The Wrong Building

(My apartment happens to be right across the hall from the laundry room, so whenever my boyfriend or I have a load, we just leave the door unlocked so we can just go back and forth across the hall quicker and more easily than if we have to fumble with keys and laundry baskets that need to be held with both arms. One day I’m in the living room waiting for the wash to finish when a woman I don’t recognize just walks on in to my apartment. We stare at each other for about a minute before she speaks.)

Woman: “Was that locked? Am I in the right place?”

Me: *confused* “Uh, that depends. Who’re you looking for?”

Woman: “[Woman’s name that isn’t mine]?”

(I happen to know who she’s looking for, seeing as I’ve had to take her mail that’d been put in my box by mistake. So luckily I know where to send her.)

Me: “She’s in building 21. This is building 22.”

(It takes about half a minute for this to process.)

Woman: “Oh! Oh, baby, I’m sorry!”

(Even after that, she still took her sweet time looking around my living room before leaving.)