I don't post as much as I should or could...
Kind of a mixed-bag of bloggery goodness today.
Been going through a kind of hell-living thing [besides all the promises our landlord hasn't come through on since we moved in on June 2nd: new kitchen-nope, working fireplace-nada, completed basement-naw, fix the furnace-took 3 weeks] when we found out in early September that our landlord & family were moving in above us. My first, and strongest, tenet of being a lifelong [since I was 18 that is] tenant has been, "I don't shit where I eat" i.e. I do not, EVER, live in the same building as my landlord. Call me weird or funny, but it seems to be a bad combo. Mind you, I've never done it so I don't know for sure, but I've never shat on my food plate either and that's worked out so far ...that is, until now...
They moved in on my birthday, joy. And life hasn't been the same since. To say that they are loud, inconsiderate, and basically fucking clueless would be a vast understatement.
It started with a simple, "Could you make sure you park your car on the street tomorrow?" as they needed the driveway for their moving trucks. Cool, no sweat. That was the last day we ever parked our car in that driveway. They have a pickup, SUV, Range Rover and Land Cruiser... not to mention, a big-assed trailer for hauling his roofer shit as he is a roofer. Part of what we pay for is the driveway.
Two days before that, I heard this huge metallic scraping sound when I was standing in the kitchen. Landlord? He was out in the driveway loading his roofing stuff from the garage into his trailer. After he split I went out and saw that he had overshot something big-n-heavy and it had dented and scratched a fairly nice divot into the passenger-side door of our car. Mentioned it to him and he said, "Oh. Wow. I'll look into it." Nothing more has happened. Of course.
But the best? The best is that while their 6 year old son seems cool and nice enough, he suffers from ADD [they told us this]. This kid cannot chill. He thumps from 7 or 8am until bedtime EVERYDAY. The only time the banging and thumping ends is past 10 or 11pm at night or when his mom takes him out on errands. It's endless... like being inside a drum with their floor, our ceiling, acting as a drumhead-all bass, while we are stuck in the cylinder of the drum itself.
We've written two VERY nice, even humorous, letters to them... shit like, "Wow, is **** entering the military?" to "Sounds like some seriously fun dancing going on up there... "... all in an attempt to get them to understand how loud it is. I assume they have never lived in a building with others, or they might have some clue that you don't let your kids run-no make that, sprint, from one end of the house to the other; or how you [the mom] don't wear high heels on hardwood floors. They are staggering in their cluelessness. In NYC, it would have taken one 24 hour period before their asses would have been evicted by the building owner: or another tenant simply would have knocked on their door and when they opened it, used a 12-gauge shotgun on them.
We've told them time and again how Amy works until 8am and needs/MUST sleep. We've even made it easier for them by mentioning that they keep the thumping down until 1pm [thus allowing Amy a paltry 4 hours sleep on her days on]... the day after that plea from us: the thumping began at 8:15am and lasted until noon. 5 or 6 weeks of this... we, as a family, haven't slept more than 3 hours at a stretch. We're pretty ragged truth be told. The most insane moment came a couple days ago when the thumping [it's always thumping, jump on a bed, scream, then repeat... I think the kid also has OCD frankly] started at 7:30am and stopped in the early afternoon. It's pure insanity.
We've mentioned carpeting, nope. We've tried ear plugs-as a family, nope the bass frequencies don't get canceled out. We've tried all wearing our iPods, nope-can't turn in bed [be a great ad idea for Apple though]. Nothing works.
The most telling moment of how nothing was going to change was this...
after we wrote the second letter, we bumped into the owner's wife in the front yard on our way out for a ride. She started chatting casually about stuff and then all of a sudden swerved the topic onto their son. At one point, while the three of us are just standing there listening-smiling numbly, she says [and I quote this spot on], "You know, **** came out of my womb in 5th gear, and I just can't see slowing him down. I just cannot bring myself to break his spirit". Urgh, WHAT?!?! Break his spirit?!?! What the fuck lady, you also just mentioned that he's been kicked out of his 2nd school and he's 6 years old!!... that he's basically uncontrollable. Break his spirit?? How about bending the fucking thing?? How about a nice thick-n-creamy Ritalin milkshake?? It was at that point that Amy & me knew she/they could give a shit about us, considering us: the people who pay THEM.
So... one day, sleep deprived as usual, we slog onto our bikes and head out for a ride to go anywhere but near our house. We end up in a park in Minneapolis. Chloe strikes up a conversation with a little girl and her dad comes over and sits beside us. We end up telling him this boring, horrid tale. He mentions that his friends are renting a single family dwelling for the same bread we're paying right now. Hope? Positivity? Sleep? No &%^%#$$#$&^**^!@!@! jacked up ADD kid above us? "Too good to be true", we say.
We move in by the end of November. Yay!! Great neighborhood, fantastic owners who live across the street/ride bikes/lean left politically... close to the Greenway, a fantastic Co-Op and Chloe's favorite park. Plus Chloe has 3 built-in friends [2 from the folks we're renting from, and the other one from their friend-the guy we originally met in the park that fateful day]... how cool is that?!?!
Best? We tell the landlord at our current place that we're moving and he tries, actually tries, to press us for bread because we're giving him 24 days notice instead of 30. Pardon my French here, but he can go fuck himself. I laughed at him. Amy looked him square in the eye and said, "How about this... instead of charging you $400.00 for the damage to the door of our car, we make it $396.00? Sound good?" I added, "Yeah, and like we'll ever see a red cent of the money for the damage anyway." Guy's in debt up to his nuts... we just want out. And out we are.
Interesting footnote... the guy we are going to be renting from actually knows our current landlord. He began laughing when we told him some of these stories as he has had similar experiences with him as a client of his roofing business [slippery, hard to get a commitment out of, doesn't show up when he says he will to complete work, etc].
So... Goodbye Saint Paul, and goodbye crappy, inconsiderate landlord + family. Good riddance.
So... it's a few days later since I began putting this entry together and we are moved into our new place in the Seward neighborhood of Minneapolis, and straight up-->> we LOVE it here! Great people [1st night here there was a knock at our front door and it was our neighbors bringing cookies and brownies for Chloe, super nice!], great vibe, very Left, right by a fantastic Co-Op , and our very own single family dwelling. We are very happy. And our new landlords are fantastic [caring, concerned, want every detail just right for us... most of all: they want us to be very happy. Completely the opposite of the former scene].
Tonight, the night before Thanksgiving, went out for a great 13-miler. Quite cold [but loved it], snow flurries [but dug that too], checked out the local 'Hood [ran into no less than 12 other cyclers-3 of which were on Surly Pugsleys], and then met the girls-they were off running last-minute T-Giving Feast errands-at Minnehaha Falls to see the Falls at night in the snow. Just great! And stayed plenty warm from a gift from Amy [at least my feet did].
Sitting here right now, typing this, I realize how thankful I am. Thankful for my wonderful family, wonderful friends, crappy relocations that eventually bear some fruit, even bad landlords that make you appreciate great ones all the more.
And...
Second Chances.
Peace & Blessings, Ride Always... Happiest of Thanksgivings to You [and if you're reading this and don't celebrate Thanksgiving Day... Happiest of Happiness to You & Yours]
P.S. Massive "Thank You's" to Bob & Beth Brown and Mark for so much help on the move. We couldn't have done it-at all-without the three of you.
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