Scaring Myself


If you know me at all—and you’re here now, so you might as well settle in and learn somethin’—you know this is my time.

halloween season


Which is to say I’ve been getting crazy busy with other things lately and totally neglected to explain how it was that I came to have someone in my house while I was catching up on housework while listening to my two soul mates tell me about all the ways I’m totally going to get murdered.*

screenshot of tweet reads, "Finally got someone 'round to fix a few things, and now I've got a strange man in my house making odd noises while I listen to @MyFavMurder and FREAK THE FUCK OUT every time he pops around the corner or bumps something. #excellentdecisions



Let me catch you up a li’l, k?



Knock! Knock! (comic-style)


BOB:  Hey, Chase.
ME:  Hiya, Bob**
BOB:  I’m just having a look around and…
ME:  ?
BOB:  Well, I’m trying to see what he’s done so far.
ME:  Ummm… nothing?
BOB:  Are you—are you kidding me?
ME:  Oh, wait!  We did get a new door finally.  I started putting in maintenance requests every day and they eventually sent someone out.
BOB:  Oh they did fix that?
ME:  Yeah.  (gestures)
BOB:  (steps inside)  Okay, so there’s that, but… really?  Nothing else?
ME:  (shakes head)
BOB:  (exasperated)  This guy!
ME:  I know.
BOB:  Okay, but did he—no, he didn’t even change your locks!
ME:  Nope.
BOB:  I gave him 48 hours to change those locks!
ME:  I know.
BOB:  (sighs, looks conflicted)
ME:  I know.  He sent a guy out about it, and he bitched about how he doesn’t have time to fix all of this and how whomever made up that list shouldn’t be an inspector.
BOB:  That was me!
ME:  I know.  And I didn’t say anything—he was a big guy, and he’s in my house, you know?
BOB:  (nods)
ME:  But I also know that everything you put on that list had to be supported by the section of the city code it violates.
BOB:  I put it right there on the line!
ME:  (reassuringly)  I know.
BOB:  (sighs)
ME:  I don’t know what more to do.
BOB:  Well here’s the problem… so far, we’ve been able to keep this away from my boss.  But if my boss finds out—and he will, eventually, like when Scott goes to court—
ME:  Oh, that’s for sure?
BOB:  His date is set, he’s being served next week I think.  And when my boss finds out I’ve been hiding this, I’m gonna be in trouble.
ME:  (bites lip)  I don’t want you to get in trouble over him…
BOB:  But my boss would tell me I need to serve you as well!
ME:  Me?!
BOB:  Well, you’re living here illegally.
ME:  (stops breathing)
HAMILTON:  (bites my leg)
ME:  (to Ham)  Yes, I know.  (picks up Ham, breathes deep)
BOB:  I’m sorry.  I don’t mean to upset you.
ME:  We didn’t do anything wrong.
BOB:  I know it!  But my boss would say you need to move out and go to court because this is all illegal.
ME:  Oh God…
BOB:  Can you talk to him?  Get him moving on it?
ME:  I’ll text him again…
BOB:  Try, please.  I’ll be back in a few days.  I’m sorry to upset you, I just… I don’t want to lose my job over this.



So I did text Scott.  I told him that Bob had been by, and that it was sounding like we would have to move into a hotel until repairs were done and I know you don’t think I’m paying for that, blah blah blah.  I poured all my panic onto him.  Nothing.  Fucker had stopped responding to my texts, phone calls, emails, anything.  So when Bob came back, I did not have good news.  But I did have an idea…


BOB:  Hey, I was just looking at this crack in your foundation and wondering if we put that on the list.
ME:  Yeah, it’s on there.  Sorry it took me so long to get the door.  Pants.
BOB:  (nods)  Anything from Scott?
ME:  No, he’s not answering my calls or texts.  (shows phone)  See, he replied to this one when I said you’d been by, but then nothing after I explained about why.
BOB:  (frustrated noises)
ME:  But I had an idea—I wanted to run it past you before I do it, because I don’t want you to get in trouble.
BOB:  Oh, I’m already gonna get in trouble!
ME:  I know, and I don’t want that!  You’ve been so great to us, you and Bee both, and everyone says you’re an improvement over that guy you replaced—
BOB:  That guy—he’d have just sent everyone to court first thing.  He was into that.  I hate going to court.
ME:  So I thought… Remember how I got my door replaced?
BOB:  (shakes head)
ME:  It wasn’t Scott that did it—he’s off doing keg stands or something, I’m sure—it was the maintenance department.  Now, I’ve butted heads with them a couple of times because… it doesn’t matter.  But they do actually fix shit when I complain, if I scream loud enough.
BOB:  You want to complain to them about the locks?  Because these locks are—
ME:  I want to submit the whole list.
BOB:  The whole… ?
ME:  (evil grin)  Your whole inspection.  The whole thing.
BOB:  Oh.  Oh!
ME:  The way it works is, I write up a maintenance request in their online system, but then I can send an email with “supporting documentation.”  It’s meant for me to include photos and things, but what if I included your inspection report?
BOB:  You think that’d work?
ME:  I think they ignore me less than Scott does.
BOB:  Do it!
ME:  Okay, I just wanted to make sure you’re okay with it, since I know giving a copy to the tenant isn’t the usual way of things.
BOB:  Nah, go ahead.  Whatever gets it done.
ME:  And if it doesn’t work the first time, I’ll keep sending them.  They’ll literally drown in it.
BOB:  Keep me posted!

massive stack of paperwork, stamped FUCK


I only had to do it twice.


Now, each request took three separate maintenance requests—because of the character limit—but they’re finally moving on the list.  There’s even talk of a real electrician coming out to figure out what the hell is up with my wiring!


Which brings me to the moral of today’s story:


Don’t ever doubt the power of persistent, whining, nagging bitchiness to get shit done. Sometimes it’s literally the only thing that will work.


Also, maybe don’t let strange men go thumping around your house while you’re listening to a podcast about all the home invasions, rapes, murders, and serial killings.  You know, if you’ve got time for a second moral.  If not, just the first thing.


witch tapping ruby slippers on halloween decorated porch

‘Tis the season… 




* If you’re not a fan of My Favorite Murder it’s probably because you haven’t started listening yet.  Which is fine, because it took me way too long to get on board, so I am in no position to judge you.  If, on the other hand, you’re some kind of weirdo who doesn’t want to hear about/talk about murders and serial killers?  I’m sorry, but we can’t be friends.


** If you are already lost, it’s because you’ve missed some things.  I linked them in the post, but chronologically check out the sign on my door, the thing about my back door,*** and the first inspection.


*** Not that one, obviously.



5 comments on “Scaring Myself

  1. Preach! I once spent 6 straight hours on the phone complaining, bitching and whining to Verizon customer service. They transferred me 11 times…. but in the end I had satisfaction. Glad you’re finally going to see some action on the repairs. Well done!

    Liked by 1 person

  2. This is one hell of a saga. I’m kind of glad Scott’s gonna have to go to court. (Though I super, super hope you and Bob get through this without court or bosses or nonsense like that). I can be petty.

    Liked by 1 person

    • The thing is, I don’t even think it counts as petty to want to see someone who is objectively horrible—who causes harm and distress to others—suffer the natural and legal consequences of their own actions. It’s self-soothing, when you get right down to it: we’re looking for reassurance that bad things really do happen to bad people as a direct result of their bad behavior, because that’s how we can trust that the social contract will be upheld by most of the people we meet.

      Liked by 1 person

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