Notes on a sneeze

Out of deeply ingrained social etiquette, I asked how weird landlord was doing today.  Got a perfunctory ‘fine thank you’ which I was more than happy to depart with. Then he asked me how I was doing. I said “I think I’m getting a cold. Woke up with a sore throat today.” To which weird landlord gleefully replies, “Oh yes! I heard you sneeze a few days ago after you got of your car and had just closed your car door and I thought to myself ‘I wonder if Monique is getting a cold.’”

The thing is, I haven’t seen weird landlord in a couple of weeks, until today.

I know he keeps notes n’ stuff (‘Dear doorstop diary’ is a fine example) and he’s obviously a fan of signs. I’m now starting to wonder if there’s some other kind of a diary or stardate log.

September 13, 2010 @ 3:45pm – Monique backed her Jeep into her assigned parking stall approximately 3.2 millimeters away from the preferred parking position (add to her permanent record).  She sneezed once. I wonder if she’s getting a cold or a flu mayhap. I can check her discarded Kleenex I suppose but maybe I should just resume monitoring her garbage and recycling again to make sure she’s getting enough nutrients in her diet. I smell toast.

This site makes any lapses in witnessing his weirdness bittersweet because of my constant longing for something really juicily weird to share with all of you. Bittersweet until the moment I speak to him again and my skin begins to crawl, like today for example!

What the hell is wrong with me? I know better than to engage weird landlord in conversation. Better lay off the Neo Citran.

Dumpster diver, recycler, landlord

I moved into the building and received a very lengthy and very detailed information session on how to properly throw out garbage and recycle.  Apparently, I should’ve taken notes.

Within the first week I was chastised for improper garbage disposal.  My landlord had dug into the garbage dumpster and ripped open the bags I had thrown out. In hindsight, I’m surprised I wasn’t told in a note or a sign with smileys and highlighter. From what I gleaned from the conversation, he did an extremely thorough assessment of all of my refuse.  In a (forced) nonchalant chat in the hallway, my landlord told me about my bad deed but was assured it was ok (while he smirked and his eyes darted around); simultaneously, the words “this time” appeared in a thought bubble hovering above his head.

Well, lesson learned there!  I have become much more aware of my garbage disposal protocol. Slowly, over the years, thoughts have dissipated of my landlord dancing around donning used tampon applicators on his fingertips and old pork skin sewn together into a skirt. Please recycle!