Sizzle Says

“Hi. I am your neighbor. I thought you might like to know that there is someone living in your shed. Ok, bye.”

Um. WHAT?!

I always wondered what was in that shed located behind the apartment building. I’ve walked by it many mornings when I circle around the back to check the dumpsters on my way to my car. In six months, I have never actually looked inside. Maybe I should have? Or. . . maybe it’s good that I didn’t?

This is the shed ——–>

The Fella accompanied me to investigate because there was no way in hell I was going alone. It’s a small plastic shed with locked doors but the roof of it was loose and in two parts so someone could easily climb into it.

When we pulled back the top we saw this ——>

The contents include:

• A makeshift bed
• A large suitcase
• Three liters of Mountain Dew
• A cup full of cigarette butts
• A mini-fire extinguisher
• A small hand-held broom
• A half-eaten candy cane
• A discman

Cozy, right?

My first thought was something like, “King Ick could be squatting here.” Because yes, I did once date a homeless guy, thanks for asking. And no, I don’t feel like talking about that asshole.

I stood there pondering what to do. Legally, I should call the authorities and have this person busted for trespassing BUT my sympathetic nature wanted to give them the benefit of the doubt. So. . . I wrote a note that basically said: clear out by the morning or I will call the police. The next morning when I, with trepidation, pulled back the top all that was left was the suitcase, the sodas and the fire extinguisher. He took the important stuff like the bed and the cigarette cup.

Then I called the landlord so she could hire someone to haul it away because I have enough to deal with without adding illegal squatters to the list. Apparently this is not the first time someone has played house in the shed. But it will be the last.

It seems many of my tenants enjoyed smoking out this weekend judging from the ripe odors wafting into the hallways from their apartments. I’d open the front door and BAM, I’d be assaulted with doobie smell. I’d come in from taking out the trash and overhear someone coughing behind closed doors. Not “I have a cold” kind of cough but “I just took too big of a hit” kind of cough. I’ll give whomever is smoking some props- that’s some good weed they are toking. The illegal drug consumption doesn’t particularly bother me except that I know I will be hearing about it from certain tenants who feel personally affronted by smells of any kind in an apartment building. That’s a conversation I’d rather skip because I am not able to control the Universe (yet), thankyouverymuch.

* * * * *

The other morning I was in the middle of getting ready for work when the buzzer rang. Who is buzzing me at 8:45am while I am still in my pjs late for work damn it? A frantic sounding tenant had apparently locked herself out so I buzzed her in and within a minute she was banging on my door. Apparently she’d lost her whole set of keys somewhere between leaving her apartment and arriving to work. I let her in to search but since her door required me to unlock it, I’m thinking they aren’t in there. You know, since she had to actually turn the lock to lock it when she left. Yeah. After trying the spare key I had for that unit, we arrived at the conclusion that she was fucked and by default, I was too.

Okay, I internally arrived at that conclusion since we had no working spare key, only a master key that I was unwilling to part with (obviously) and because she had lost her keys, she was responsible for any costs that were incurred. We left her apartment door unlocked and I scrambled to get to the locksmith before heading into work. And yes, I was late to work. Again.

After I ran around in a frenzy, the locksmith to came out, re-keyed the lock, and left copies of the keys under my door we were left with a bill that came close to $90. Of course that’s when she informed me that she had located her keys- in the cab she took to work. Awesome. Thanks for all that trouble. No. REALLY. Thanks!

Cough.

Lucky for her the landlords waived the fees since we didn’t have a working spare.

* * * * *

My boss (aka Mrs. Landlord) is new to using computers. How do I know this? Well her emails look like this:

Hi!!! Are the sprinklers not working?? We are worried about the grass!!!!! The rent in unit #26 should be $950! Thanks!!!

Plus, she told me she was taking a computer class. I could have figured it out though. I mean look at all those exclamation points. She’s an energetic woman but even that many exclamation points are uncalled for. I’m personally affronted by her emails.

She also insists on having things faxed to her. “Great! Can you fax that over to me? Thanks!!!!!!” Why can’t I EMAIL it? What year is this? Am I stuck in the 1990’s? I don’t want to fax it. It wastes paper and time. Besides, what would Al Gore say? He would tsk tsk at you, Mrs. Landlord. Also, I can’t figure out how to have the fax plugged into the phone line without it ringing a very piercing sound in a caller’s ear so I keep it unplugged. Which means each time I am forced to use it, I have to plug it in. I know. My life, it’s very challenging.

Inhale.

Cough.

Oh don’t mind me. . . I’m just taking the edge off.