Friday, July 13, 2007
Some of you may remember my post of a few months ago in which I asked your opinion about reporting an illegal sublet next door. Last weekend, an unfamiliar man knocked on our door as I was making dinner. He said that he was staying in Robin's apartment, (which is officially still Jackie's apartment,) but that she forgot to give him the garage clicker when she went on vacation. He needed the combination to the keypad so he could park his car.
I wonder what she is on vacation from. She doesn't work, nor did her "cousin." She may or may not get paid for doing what most people do for nothing, but the idea of a vacation is absurd. She seems to be bringing a lot of work home from the office. Apparently, our illicit tenant is now subletting her apartment to yet another person, and while he seemed nice enough, it worries us. The situation has gotten out of control, and we have no idea who is living next door at any given time. Or whether shots will come through the wall and kill us. Maybe they are cooking crack in the cute little kitchen.
Flip, who was opposed to telling the landlord about the new tenant when she moved in, has decided that it is now time to report the situation. There is no telling how many people have a key to the building or the garage combination. This morning, we were awakened by the baying of a hound quite nearby, separated from us only by a thin wall. I did not need a glass to my ear to hear it. The dog is apparently alone in the apartment, and depending on how long this goes on, it may merit a call to the Humane Society.
As I contemplated all this, I burned my finger while making coffee. I didn't notice that the red light was on, and touched the surface where the glass coffeepot rests. How karmic is that? As I consider burning someone else, I get burned. Flip thinks it's merely carelessness, but I'm not sure he's right. Why does every errant hedgeborn canker blossom end up living right next door to me?