It’s time to complain about my living situation again. I keep trying to make the best of it, to just sit and enjoy the space that I have, but every time I come to terms with my surroundings my landlord or neighbors have to go and do something that sets me off again.

So, if you’ve read any past posts you know that I’m living in half the space I was last year, that I wanted to avoid the annoyance of moving but instead spent three weeks boxing and moving other people’s possessions, that I sat with the old roommate’s furniture clogging up my living space for a few weeks after the first of the month, and that I am actually paying more per month for all of this. Well, it turns out those were just the few cars in the shit train.

The Back Room

Well, the next piece of shit I found stinking up my once peaceful house was the sun room off of the back stairs behind our kitchen and bedroom. This room was completely torn apart and unusable since we moved in 2 years ago and I never really cared. This summer, however, our lovely fat, chain-smoking, incredibly slow Russian handyman was back there nearly every day blowing smoke into our house, shouting on his cell phone, and occasionally sawing a board or something. We naturally asked the landlord at our lease signing if this room would finally be available to us but he said “No, it’s still under construction and it will be for a while since we found some problems with the ceiling. It’s uninhabitable.” Less than a week later my landlord had a home-office set up in there where he would stay until 2 in the morning shouting on his phone. It’s tough to even begin to describe how truly awful this was for him to do, so I guess I’ll just make a bullet list:

1. Well, he told us nobody could use that room at all and just a few days later he’s using the room. It doesn’t get much more dishonest than that.
2. His mother lives on the first floor and has 3 bedrooms to herself and he lives on the third floor yet he conducts business until 2 am nightly on our floor. Thanks.
3. The windows at which he sits for his international shouting matches (god damned Russians) are less than 5 feet away from where I sleep at night. Even if he was in there but silent it’s just incredibly disturbing having someone that close to your bed while you sleep.
4. The room is on our floor, that means on our electric bill. He’s in that office more than he’s in our house, so yeah, I guess we don’t mind paying your bills for you.
5. He’s actually advertising a law office from that address which means we’re actually paying part of his business expenses for him. It’s pretty awful to sit in my own room and listen to him swindle clients out of money. I overheard the other day “Well, the reason I can’t give a refund is… (bullshit about types of bank accounts).”

Kids

Since we’ve lived here we’ve been flanked by annoying neighborhood children which was bothersome but tolerable. Now we have kids to deal with in our own home. It’s sure awesome to have to hear teenage boys shout at each other about who’s turn it is next on the Xbox while trying to enjoy dinner. It’s also awesome to listen to their pathetic father trying to assert his manliness by shouting fail-dad catch phrases like “You WILL listen to me!” It was too quiet and peaceful sharing a house with a kind, late-middle-aged woman, so let’s bring in a bunch of shouting teens and their screaming dad. The more the fucking merrier.

Russian Confederacy

My landlord used to work and live in Russia and met his wife there. Because of this, her entire family now lives in the States and are always hired as the cheap labor for simple repairs that need to take 3 months around the house. Seeing one slow, chain-smoking Russian poking at some piles of wood in our backyard every time I came home for the first 3 months I lived here was bad enough, but now that the landlord is back in town their numbers have quadrupled and their visits are more plentiful. It’s not too rare to come home and have to walk right through a crowd of 6 Ivans shouting at each other about Lord-knows-what or to look step outside to see what the Saturday weather is like and inhale a dense smog of second hand smoke.

Trees

Sadly, this is what set me off. My blood had returned to a mere simmer after getting used to the back room and the kids, but then I woke up yesterday for the second time since I’ve lived here to a man in a tree right outside of the house with a chainsaw. The first tree to go was last summer when my asshole neighbors cut down a giant pine tree that was right outside my office window. I loved that tree as it honestly made it feel like you were sitting in an Alpine resort and not in the middle of a city block in Milwaukee, and it also blocked my window from the neighbors. Since that tree was felled I’ve had to deal with twice as much sound coming from their hooting and hollering son and I’ve been barked at by their dog anytime I approach the window. It’s awesome having a rottweiler threatening you every time you go to a window in your own house. I am currently listening to top 40 hits DJed by Ryan Seacrest as they have apparently decided 9:30 am on a Sunday is an awesome time to blast “music” in their backyard.

Yesterday a tree was merely trimmed but it still ticked me off. This tree is in the front yard and was actually the first thing that attracted me to this place when apartment hunting 2 years ago. The huge maple sat in between the house and the street and blocked the porch and living room from any incoming gazes. Now,  in fairness, this tree did need to get cut back a bit as it was getting within a few inches of windows in spots and had completely blocked all sunlight from the porch even in July. Well, instead of getting a trim the poor bastard ended up with a buzz-cut and now it might as well not be there at all.

I Quit

So, anybody want to sublet so I can just move back home and end this misery? Living at home is the only way I’ll save money in this sham of a city anyway, so let me know if you’re interested in being assaulted with sound from the left, right, above, below, front, and back, if you like paying for a 45-year-old’s business expenses and mortgage, and if you don’t like having any money left over for yourself.