The Move, Stage 2

The new landlady called. Her mother is in the hospital 3 hours away. Apparently, it's serious. My landlady set a day and time for her husband to meet me. That was hard for her, because she made it clear that she alone manages the apartments. On social media, I never really give the exact day and time for things, except in retrospect. Like I never reported I was in San Francisco when I was there. That's all just precautionary. If I report changes or travel contemporaneously, I might as well tell people, "Hey, if you want to break into my place, now's the time." Not that I have any stuff anybody would want anyway. Still, I don't want to test it.

It's going to be good to have a human being as a landlord, rather than a heartless, soulless, brainless corporation, who I'll give the character name (again) of Corky McSwagger. When I first checked out the apartment, the Corky just gave me a key and sent me to look at it. No escort. What an efficient non-use of labor, I thought.

When I entered the apartment for the first time, it was full of gas. I overlooked the smell, thinking that there's no way they'd send me to an apartment where I could asphyxiate, or that could explode at any minute (with two other tenants in it). No way would they put my life in danger like that. I told myself it couldn't be gas, it had to have been something else.  

I thought it had to be something else like some garbage in the furnace vents that I'd have them clean out. I know, why rent an apartment that smells bad, but I loved the location, I loved the price, and I thrilled I could get an inexpensive place that didn't come with a menagerie of vermin. So, I moved in.

When I arrived, three days later, I couldn't get it out of my mind that it really did smell like gas. And nothing else. Note that it had been leaking unabated for three more days. Note it was hot outside, which could only have made it more volatile. So, I opened the windows and called Laclede to confirm that it was a gas leak. It seems that Corky didn't inspect the place himself before they put he out on the market, whether from greed, or just incompetence, nor after it was rented, just to make sure.

That's the problem with corporate landlords. They cut costs dangerously, and the right hand doesn't know what the left hand is doing, but not from being charitable. Corky finally got the leak corrected. He had to replace the whole furnace. In between time, it was like they forgot about the problem. I had to complain, and mention the L word (lawyer), to get them to complete it.

To add insult to injury, Corky accused me of having pirated my cat. He said I hadn't registered and paid for, and he was going to start charging me massive fees. I had to email them a copy of the check to prove I had paid the cat deposit $250, and $15 more in rent per month. 

Human landlords can be just as bad. I have to say, my expectations are low in general. But I have a good impression of the new landlady. She seems smart, and driven.

I have all non-essentials packed up and ready to move. I guess I'll soon see if I'm up to it. I'm disassembling my old computer, and seeing if I can sell some of the parts. I'm keeping the hard disks for data backup. I got a USB dock for them after finding USB docks are cheap. That way, I don't have to install them in my new computer.

The real move is ready to commence, and could last through September.

UPDATE-- TUESDAY 8/29/17: The landlady called this morning and canceled, saying her husband couldn't make it. She said she'll call tomorrow to set up a new appointment. This really does throw me off. I was totally flexible yesterday and today. Tomorrow and the rest of the week, though, are another matter.

However, I know how having a deathly sick parent (or child for that matter) can turn your whole world upside down. If I'm feeling tense about my little inconvenience, it's about a tenth of the tension she's feeling.