Friday, June 5, 2009

Give a crazy person an inch ...

So, some of you may know that I've had a mixed track record when it comes to living space.  Freshman year in the dorms, my suitemate liked to have sex with her boyfriend in our shower every single morning and cook mac and cheese in our sink every night.

Then I moved into a semi-haunted sorority house, and believe me -- the sorority part was scarier.  

Out in DC, cockroaches abounded and lesbians had sex on my mattress.   (To be fair, one of the lesbians was my suite mate, and she was considerate enough to have sex on ALL of our mattresses.  I wasn't the only one singled out.)

Down in Phoenix, I nearly had a roommate kill me when she started a kitchen fire, passed out drunk, and then threw me out of the apartment at 2 am when I had the audacity to extinguish the flames.  

Up in SLC, I had a roommate who smoked pot in her room, had loud obnoxious sex that even the neighbors complained about, flushed paper towels down the toilet when she ran out of regular t.p., insulted my sister, and on top of everything else, shopped at Urban Outfitters.  I actually lived with her the longest out of all of them.

But I think the real high point of all my living experiences came earlier in the week, when my OCD landlady came over and pointed out all the flaws in the apartment I'd spent two days cleaning.  (I believe I've alluded to this in an earlier post.)  Well, a few days ago I left her a message to let her know I would be dropping off the keys on Thursday, if that was ok, and to call me back.  

She never called me back.  I felt a little weird about leaving the keys in the kitchen and the door unlocked, like she'd told me to, and therefore neglected to do it.

Today she called me, annoyed that the cleaning service she'd hired to repair all my slovenliness was standing outside the apartment, unable to get in.

One of my personal flaws is the occasional inability to respond to conflict when the moment requires.  Instead of pointing out that she'd never called me back to let me know leaving the keys was all right, I promptly apologized, jumped in my car and tore off to Salt Lake.

How much do you friendly readers want to bet she tries to take the cleaning lady's wasted time out of my deposit?

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