Everybody Ready?

It's time for another tirade about my landlady! Woo!

So, about a week and a half ago I wake up at 7 AM to my entire house shaking. Shaking. I go downstairs to figure out what the heck is going on and there it is. The now familiar sound of men yelling at each other about construction. Look out the window- the front porch is gone. Could I have walked out the front door and fallen 5 feet to my death? Sure. If I was deaf... or uninquisitive beyond all reason. But I'm neither of these and therefore was forewarned of the danger outside my front door. Did my landlady call to let me know this would be happening? Of course not. My parents' suggestion was that next time she does unannounced construction, I just take one for the team and then sue the crap out of her. That is looking more and more appealing by the day.

So, that day was the day before I left for my vacation in Alabama. I was getting everything ready to go- the plan was for Tom to come over whenever he wanted and drop my rent check off in my landlady's mailbox when we regained mailbox access. He would also have my car keys for the week in case he needed to drive my truck, or my landlady needed my truck moved (as happens usually at least once a week.) So, the night before I leave, my landlady calls. Keep in mind, this is about 10 PM.

Landlady: "Hey Sam, just wanted to call and let you know that they're working on the porch."
Me: "Yeah. I figured that out."
Landlady: "Yeah, I just needed to call and let you know...you know...officially."
Me: "Gotcha. Very helpful. Thanks. Oh, and just to let you know, I'm going out of town for a few days, but Tom will bring you the rent and if you need my car moved just give me a call cause he'll have the key."
Landlady: "Oh. Well, if I need your car moved, I need it moved right then. I can't be waiting for him to come over and move it. Why don't you just put your car key in my mailbox and that way I can move it whenever."
Me: "Yeah, I can't get to your mailbox cause there's no porch, and also I want Tom to have the car key so he can use my truck if he needs it."
Landlady: "I've been meaning to talk to you about that."
Me: "About what?"
Landlady: "We need to talk about Tom."
Me: "Excuse me?"
Landlady: "We need to talk about Tom and the amount of time he spends there."
Me: "Why?"
Landlady: "Well, technically, he's a tenant."
Me: "No, he's not. He doesn't live here, so he's not a tenant."
Landlady: "Well, technically the amount of time he spends here makes him a tenant."
Me: "No it doesn't. He doesn't live here, so he's not a tenant."
Landlady: "Well, don't worry about it right now, we'll talk about it when you get back."
Me: "Um....okay."

Really? She wants to talk about the amount of time my boyfriend spends here? She leased the apartment to me only having met him! I *told* her he would be here all the time! In the end, I parked my car at Tom's house for the duration of my vacation so that it wouldn't be spoiled by her calling me. I've never let her drive my car- despite her numerous requests- and I have no intention of doing so in the future. It really makes me miss living in apartment complexes. I hate sharing a wall with my landlady. Especially one that's as nosy as mine. Ugh. And she's seen Tom a couple times since I've been back and is yet to call me for a discussion about him. Too bad, since I consulted with a lawyer while I was in Alabama. (Aww....C, you're such a grown-up.) Actually I had a margarita or two with a lawyer, but she emailed me laws that I can use against my stupid landlady. So that was helpful. And margaritas were delicious. :)

So I came back to about 3 inches of snow on the ground and my landlady outside shoveling the driveway. My lease states that I have to share in the shoveling responsibilities. If she were a nice person, I would've gone inside, gotten a shovel and helped. But I hate her and therefore went inside so I wouldn't have to talk to her. She shoveled the entire driveway, and then I guess she went in the house. Did she lay down salt, or sand, or some sort of salt-sand-absorbent-hybrid? No. The next day was my driveway one giant sheet of deadly ice? Um, yes. Did it remain that way for 3 days? Yes. You see, my back porch light doesn't work....because she won't fix it. Instead she fixed the lighting problem by turning the motion sensor on the garage to the direction of my back door. This is great when I actually get to the door (assuming she hasn't turned the light off- which she does on occasion- she might actively be trying to kill me) but on the trip from the place where I park (a snowy bank to the side of the driveway) to the door, there is no lighting. So tiptoeing across a giant sheet of ice in the dark becomes my sad reality. Immediately following one of these death skates, I called her.

Me: "Hey, I just came in from my car and I was wondering- are you going to put down salt or sand or something because I'm totally going to die out there."
Landlady: "Oh, well, it's supposed to be like 30 tomorrow..."
Me: "Ookay? So salt...?"
Landlady: "I mean 40, it's supposed to be 40 tomorrow."
Me: "So you're saying it's going to melt tomorrow anyway, so you're not going to put anything down."
Landlady: "Right. Well, when it freezes like that the salt can't penetrate or anything so it wouldn't do any good. But, yeah, that's my responsibility to take care of putting stuff down out there, so don't worry about it."
Me: "Um...okay."

I don't know anything about salt for the purposes of winter, so I just go with it. Tom comes over and informs me that yes, duh, she should've laid the stuff down when she finished shoveling, but apparently my landlady is an idiot and she should go out there now and put something down. I go with the "it's gonna melt tomorrow anyway" defense and move on with my life. It's been over a week now, my driveway is yet to thaw- and last night there was freezing rain, which was a real treat when I walked outside at 7 AM. Driveway is slicker than ever. And now, the snowy bank parking has become icy rut parking. Tom had to push me out of my space this morning.

It's going to be a long winter.