Time to play “Which door?”

I left out the front door and, unfortunately, didn’t notice weird landlord was sitting out front on his little black stool until it was too late. Inwardly cringing, I smiled and swiftly walked past and defied my VERY strong urge to break into a full-out sprint & scream combo.  I stayed on the side of the street where he couldn’t watch me walk away for an entire block. The thought of his vacuous, dead-fish stare following me, looking up and down the back of my body and thinking whatever disgusting and unnatural things a freak like him thinks, was far too much to bear. It always is.

I regularly alter my routes of ingress and egress from my home based on weird landlord’s location. Another tenant or two and I play this game on an ongoing basis. Let’s say weird landlord is out doing the day-long manual lawnmower ritual; looks like I’ll be taking the side door and walking an extra block to avoid close proximity.

Or, oh no, I drive into the alley and see he’s beside the recycling bins doing something inane and somehow repulsive. *deep breath* Ok, so it looks like it’s time to carry 8 grocery bags up 6 flights of stairs in one trip again since I do not want to come back downstairs and have to fake not being totally creeped out. That is not in my rental contract. (remember to buy a book on power-lifting)

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!