Shower my mind

The other day, I walked by what must be weird landlord’s bathroom window and believe I may have heard him showering. This made me feel very unclean and uncomfortable and the feeling has lingered.

I think while hearing the water splashing on what I can only assume was his nude body *I just wretched now* that somehow something came unhinged in my now fragile psyche and will never be the same.

Mmmm, dryer tea

So, weird landlord already knew I was sick. I went downstairs to do laundry and weird landlord wants to chat. I have no energy to fight it and somehow stumble through some laundry room chit-chat. As I’m putting my dirty clothes into the machine, weird landlord’s (disconcerting) sympathetic dead-fish gaze was upon me, accompanied by a smirk that sent an icy-cold chill coursing down my spine (definitely not from my cold). All this interspersed with a light peppering of his special weird landlord glances toward the ceiling!

Like my clothes, I wanted to be clean too so when I got back to my apartment I followed up with a shower in a turtleneck sweater and thick, grey jogging pants. (looking at weird landlord makes me wish there was no such thing as nudity) Hey, if I just shower like that from now on, no more need to visit the laundry room! 

I went back downstairs to put my clothes in the dryer. Guess what’s waiting for me on top of the dryer? A note along with a variety of teas. Why no picture you ask? Weird landlord walked into the laundry room before the door even swung closed and because he eavesdrops to hear when I’m back in the laundry room so he can either ‘coincidentally’ end up in the hallway as I walk through or find something he needs to do in the laundry room, aside from creeping me out. (he lives in an illegal suite right beside the laundry room which I think is actually a storage closet) I didn’t have my camera with me anyway. I should know better and always have it with me while venturing out into the hallways of Mackenzie Manor. Would’ve been a great picture to share with you.

The tea selection included echinacea and some type of mucous-drying blend. Lovely! However, I opted not to partake. I wish I could just see it as the nice gesture it was meant to be but somehow I can’t escape the images of him fondling the tea and having a conversation with it as he inserts something insidious into the package.

It’s laundry day again today. I wonder how long I could wear the same clothes without washing them?

Hot, fire extinguisher lovin’

Just what I need when I’m fighting a cold, hearing weird landlord in the hallway whistling and heavy breathing interspersed with some intense grunting.

So glad I have a peephole to provide a visual to accompany the disgusting symphony. (yes, I looked, ok?! I did it for all of you) He was sweeping the carpet, yes, sweeping it. Bending over, grunting, and sweeping the carpet. Kind of like a bend & snap, except a bend & grunt. There, are you happy now?

I suppose I should be grateful because it is better than what I imagined…him dry-humping the fire extinguisher.

Mackenzie Manor Muzak

If you hadn’t already guessed, this is my building’s official theme song.

Signs, signs, everywhere there’s signs
Blockin’ up the scenery, breakin’ my mind
Do this, don’t do that, can’t you read the sign?

Actually, weird landlord should really consider piping in a Muzak version of this song playing on a continuous loop. I bet he hears something like it in his head. (along with “he wants you too Malachi, he wants you too”)

Mornings are half off!

One early morning, as I left my apartment and walked into the hallway, my landlord was standing there wearing a dark green terry-cloth robe.

I think we can all agree that a landlord wearing his robe in the hallway is inappropriate.  What about wearing a robe that barely covers his junk? Did I mention he wasn’t wearing pants? Oh, I didn’t? He wasn’t wearing pants.
(please, take my eyes out)

It was difficult to know where to look. He’s an imposing 6’4″, balding and heavy-set; imagine a child from Children of the Corn grown up. I held eye contact with him for a brief moment and fought the urge to look below the hemline of his mini-robe at the blurry car accident of white legs and dingy white socks my peripheral vision so effectively took in.

He had a piece of paper in his hand and it appeared he was about to slide it under someone’s door.  I stayed calm because I knew it was very important I got out of there before he bent over and finished what he came there to do.

Somehow, I managed to control my gag reflex and held back the retching until I made it into the stairwell. I so badly wanted to jump the flights of stairs in giant leaps but was worried the noise I’d make while landing would summon him. I can’t begin to imagine the damage looking up at him from that angle would do to my psyche. (why am I reliving this?)

As I forced myself to walk slowly down the stairs, I used a hybrid of Ujjayi and Pilates breathing to keep myself from blacking out. I made it out to my Jeep, got in and may have laid a 5o foot long patch of rubber but can’t be sure as that’s where my memory gets murky. I hate mornings.