Thursday, August 23, 2007

My Landlord Is A Twat

I am so incredibly pissed off right now I can hardly type. Or think.

After 2 1/2 years of asking, begging, pleading and threatening, my landlord finally came over today to put in a new front door that has a deadbolt lock on it. Yes, as long as I have lived in this duplex, I just had one of those doorknobs that you push in and twist to lock - on the FRONT DOOR. Most people have more secure locks on their bathroom doors! I know this is Billings, but being a single woman and all, I just wanted a leetle more security than that, you know? I mean, when you drive down the street here, you can see every one's front doors; mine stuck out like a sore thumb because you could see that mine was the only one without a deadbolt lock on it.

So, he calls me at work to tell me that he is on his way over to the house. I called Ollie from work to warn her so that he didn't walk in on her in her underwear or something. She called me about an hour later to tell me what a twat he is. She kept going on and on and on about how much she hates this guy (she was totally preaching to the choir - I wrote the book on hating his man) and what a jerk he is. Apparently he had tried to call me at work while I was at lunch so he could tell me what a horrible housekeeper I am. I finally got her off the phone and was stewing for a while. Then, she called me again towards the end of the day to say that he didn't finish it all today and would have to come back again tomorrow - needless to say, she wasn't thrilled. She said that the key that unlocked the back door (the one totally obscured from the world, that door has a deadbolt) would also unlock the front door now. I said, "What did he do? Just put the lock from the back door on the front?" "No, it's the same kind of lock, so the key will open both." Wow! I feel so much more secure now!! Imagine: anyone with the same lock as mine will be able to open my front door with their key! JOY! The other problem was that the key I had for the back door didn't actually open the back door. I told her not to leave the house until I got home, and get that key from him so we can copy it.

I get home, and see that he has parked his pickup truck on my front lawn. The lawn I have to pay someone $100 a month to mow for me because I am not physically able to do it myself. The lawn that he is constantly ragging on me about to take care of. Who knew that parking a two ton metal machine that drips transmission fluid and synthetic oil all over the place would be good for the grass?? Silly me - women just don't know anything! Ollie came flying (literally) out of the house and said, "Park the truck; we're taking my car." So, we get into her fabulous car and she roars off practically before I can get my door shut. I hit my head on the windshield as she slows to negotiate a curve in the road because I am too fat to wear the seat belt in her fabulous car. We go to ACE Hardware where three apathetic teens try to ignore us as we stand in their direct line of sight at the key kiosk, but I am having none of it. "Get over here and copy this key," I grumbled and thrust it at the closest gene pool disaster. He takes it from me disdainfully as his co-workers snicker away; then nearly has a seizure when he realizes that now he will have to actually do the rest of his job by ringing up the copies and allowing me to give him money for them.

We drive back home, and the LL has left. He also left the old front door laying in the middle of the lawn. It compliments the tire tracks beautifully. The new door has supposedly been freshly painted; apparently by a blind person with an eyeshadow applicator. It is a total mess. The (white) inside of the door has black scuff marks all over it that make it appear as though he has included it on his list of favorite things to park his truck on. I went outside for a few minutes to enjoy the back porch that the LL made Ollie feel obligated to go out and sweep the leaves off of. It looks nice. The garbage bag of leaves was still on the porch, so I took it around the front and put it in the trash can (which I forgot to set out this morning because when I left for work, I thought it was Friday. Stupid, stupid girl.). I came in the house, bolted into my bedroom, shut the door, striped off all my clothes, sat on the edge of the bed, and cried. After about a half an hour, I put some cruddy clothes on and went out in the front yard to pick up the door off the grass. I leaned it against the front of the house, which the LL will probably hate. Then I came in here and started typing. I feel better now. Thanks.

3 comments:

  1. This totally makes me feel like an AWESOME landlord. So thank you. (Yes, I am. Not planned.)

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  2. KC - my sister just emailed me the greatest idea; she said I should have painted "MY LANDLORD IS A TWAT" in poster paint on that old door that I leaned up against the house. Oh well, maybe next time.

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  3. He does sound like a pain in the buttocks. So good to see you blogging, girl. ((hugs))

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