I’ve always heard that bad things come in threes. Since Friday at high noon, I’ve had my three and it better damn well stop there. (It's important to mention how much my kooky landlord thinks of his 1968 3BR, 2BA ranch-style house (although he doesn't spend a dime on maintenance of it - he's complicated like that). He has called me several times over the past two years to check on critical things like the paint, the bushes and the dishwasher. I pray that someday this man has children to worry about this much - no, scratch that, he'd ruin 'em.)
Friday AM: Landlord receives email I sent Monday about lease non-renewal. He’s ticked. I can hear it when he tells me I’ll be showing the property, he’ll be “inspecting” the property for damages, and that he already has 20 inquiries he’s told to drive by and look at it.
Friday 5PM: First prospect he's given the address to pulls up in driveway, looks for cars in the parking area behind the house, looks in dining room window and leaves.
Friday 7PM: Kitchen sink explodes. When I turn the garbage disposal off, a Yellowstone geyser of water shoots up. Email to landlord (telling him it could indeed be our fault, not sure) and explain again about reasonable notice and my disdain for peeping toms.
Friday 10PM: Tree falls on power line to house, cutting power, cable, phone wires. It’s still 86 degrees outside with 75% humidity.
Saturday 11AM: Cancel my plans to leave for Charlotte. Make reservations at nearby hotel that accepts pets. Call insurance for ideas, etc. High volume on everything due to storm. May hear back next week.
Saturday 2PM: Call landlord about tree. It was like his own limb had been cut off. “We’re fine. Thanks for asking.” (to imaginary "How are you guys? Is everyone okay?")
Saturday 3PM: Check into hotel and cool off. Kindly send pics of tree to landlord for his homeowner’s insurance. “You’re welcome.” (to an imaginary "Thank you.")
Saturday 7PM: Drive back to house to pick up something I had forgotten. Note in the door from someone named Mark who wanted to see the house. Call Mark to find out what landlord had told him (apparently "Stop by! Knock on the door! Look in the windows! Check it out!"). Mark is drunk. And Mark left a trail of roofing nails in the driveway. Leave landlord another voice mail about this idiot and BEG him to make appointments after July 1st (45 days from move-out date according to lease) and not to give out the address anymore.
Saturday 8PM: IPL pulls up while I’m fuming at the house and restores power.
Saturday 11:30PM: Landlord returns call from 7PM and leaves pissy voice mail telling me all the things I owe him because he's been such a good guy. ("Remember how I had the heater replaced when it died that one dead o' winter time?" "Remember how I lowered your rent 6.84% the second year to keep you from moving after the first year?")
Sunday 7:30AM: Check out of hotel, return things to fridge, and leave for work.
Sunday 11AM: Still trading email barbs with landlord. He thinks he’s done me great favors and I think he's silly. He's ticked that I'm ticked and now I'm ticked that he's ticked. He has now added “lawyer” to “inspector” on his list of professionals he’s going to contact about me. Uhhhh, okay.
Is this still just three?
Update: Sink issue not my fault or responsibility. Looking so forward to another shit storm of whine from landlord when he gets rent check (less costs).
This post was tedious, just me venting and has nothing to do with anything. I know this and am now as bored with myself as anyone reading this.