Perils of assimilation

If only life came with subtitles.

Thursday, February 07, 2008

Call Mr. Lee

I live in a dilapidated, cheap-ass duplex about 11 blocks from campus. It was built sometime in the late 1800's, presumably by one of the lumber barons of Eau Claire. Using my vast experience of working at a living history museum (it was for a high school class, I worked there for less than a week), my room would have been the formal parlor, and Amber's room was once a kitchen, judging by the boards that cover up where the stove pipe would have been. The house is severely slanted, someone in rollerblades can stand in one side of the house and roll to the opposite side. The windows are rotting, there are cracks everywhere. But it does have a washer and dryer, and also incredibly cheap rent. But what makes this place so great to live in is the landlord, Lee.

Lee is an incredibly nice guy, and not at all what you expect from a landlord. Because CrazyRoomie found tenants for the other side of the house, Lee PAID her twenty bucks. He also gave us money to replace the food we lost when our fridge broke this fall. He is also a complete moron when it comes to fixing things. Lee's solution to everything is either hitting the problem area with a hammer, or caulk. He caulked the upstairs windows shut earlier this year, creating an illegal fire hazard. If there is a fire, we're better off going THROUGH the fire than trying to get out via the windows.

Our sink has been leaking at the base of the faucet for a few days now. Lee came over to fix it, but ended up making the problem worse. All he did was caulk the base of the faucet, which has already started to cause water to build up.
But don't worry, because he showed me where the emergency valve is. And in the caulking process, he broke our soap dispenser, for which he paid us.

I'm going to be screwed when I have to deal with a real landord. I'll start expecting to recieve money everytime something goes wrong.


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