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Valve Control

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Somehow it is November, which is impressive. I do not remember what it was like to be in the middle of September or October, but here we are now on the other side. Being on the other side has provided me with resolve. I have resolved to shut off the valve that brings me things to worry about, to contemplate, to tend to. When I’m not careful about the valve, the pipe it’s connected to overflows and items that seem more important than they really are wake me up 2 hours before I need to be up to tell me to pay attention! And the water bill! Don’t forget to pay the water bill! There is more, but the list could go on forever, so suffice it to say that I am taking a break for the rest of the year from worrying about things that can be worried about at a later date. It’s much easier than I imagined it would be, and I find simply ignoring unpleasant subjects or worrisome events to be a perfectly acceptable solution to solve the problem.

But then there are things that need to be dealt with immediately. Like when your landlord tells you that she is going to conduct a walk through of your duplex and that she expects it to look as good as new.

Now, I have never been much of a bigot, but I’ll admit this, I am starting to hold something against landlords. We are forever being warned never to trust lawyers and never to trust skinny cooks, but what about landlords? I am not nearly important enough or devious enough to have met enough lawyers to make a fair case for the professionals in the occupation, but I have seen the “never trust a skinny cook” saying printed on an apron before which must make it true.

Recently our landlord sent us pictures of what our duplex looked like when we first moved in. The set of pictures included a pristine white bathtub, without the permanent black sludge trackings across the bottom that the previous tenant had kindly left us. And right beneath that picture was a picture of what the wood kitchen counters and sink looked like when I first moved in. Except our kitchen counters aren’t made of wood, they are made of a special sort of linoleum that is pretending to be a sort of sad marble. Which makes me pretty sure she is trying to pull the wool over our eyes on this.

On Sunday, as Alan and I took turns getting high off of our liquid gel cleaners and throwing every ounce of muscle into scrubbing off the tar from the bottom of the tub, I thought that maybe I would lead the movement to help bring truth to the people. Yes, I would get started on having “Never Trust A Landlord” printed on aprons ASAP.

Last modified: January 10, 2019