Our landlord, Scrooge, should have a house with 100 rooms and be found dead in every one of them.
He has the boiler set so that we get heat for only 13 hours per day, half in the morning and half at night. The rest of the time, no matter what the temperature is, we are either (a) cold, (b) contemplating burning our furniture or (c) huddled around an electric space heater we bought.
I checked with the Rent Board a few years ago, and this is legal. He is required by law to give us 13 hours of heat per day, and that is what he does. Not a minute more, not a minute less. Thirteen hours. The outside temperature stays the same during the hours we have no heat, so there is no justification for depriving us. I would much prefer to pay for our own fuel and have heat whenever we want it.
I should mention here that we do not live in a slum. We live in one of the better neighborhoods in a very expensive city, and our monthly rent is considerably more than our mortgage payments were when we owned a four-bedroom house on several acres of beautiful land outside Nashville.
He could afford to heat these apartments around the clock. I've heard rumors that his father, from whom he inherited this building and several others, showed some concern for his tenants' comfort and well-being. This character trait, alas, was not passed on to his son. Only the real estate.
This enrages me. If it were just cheapness, I wouldn't be so upset, but I interpret his callous neglect as arrogance. He believes that he is somehow worthier than those who rent their living spaces from him, that we are lesser beings who do not deserve the normal creature comforts he takes for granted. I do not have a natural aptitude for servility.
I was confirmed in my suspicions when he barged into our apartment without knocking, without the requisite 24-hour notice except for emergencies, without even 24 seconds' notice, to inspect some repairs in our bathroom, which had clearly not been maintained, although he does raise the rent every year. Without knocking, he opened our door with his own key and snorted down the hall to the bathroom like the wild boar he resembles. He did not introduce himself. If anyone had been using the bathroom at the time, there would have been a homicide. Especially if that person had been me.
Last year, I had a nasty flu-like cold, which was worrisome because I have had pneumonia five times. It was in January and the apartment was freezing. We could see our breath without going outside. That was when we bought the space heater. We have used it quite a lot already this fall, and will probably buy another as well. Our electric bills will be second only to the National Debt.
I am making a landlord doll to burn in effigy in the backyard. After I stick pins in all the places that correspond with major organs and let a pack of rabid jackals tear it apart. Then I will put on my down parka and enjoy a nice cup of chai tea with steamed milk and cookies.
