One Sunday in early October, my landlady called me to say that someone was coming to look at the LATEST vacant apartment and asked me to let him in our “secure” gate. I had already asked her if I could move in to the vacant apartment, because it was over the parking area and shared no walls with anyone else. I’d be free of the upstairs people AND the security light issue. She had said no, because “then there’d be two vacancies”.
What? Wouldn’t there still be just one vacancy? No, there’d be the vacant one AND my place. I reminded her that I’d be IN the vacant apartment. She said no, because then she’d have two apartments to “make ready”. I told her the vacant one WAS ready. She wasn’t going for it.
I never saw the prospective tenant, because he managed to get into our “secure compound” on his own.
The next day when I went home for lunch, I saw two men removing the largest “Last Supper” painting ever from the back of a massive junk van. You know those junk trucks that go around picking up crap that people leave out? It looked exactly like that. I ventured a question… “Are you moving in to 5?” Why, yes… yes, he was.
What kind of man views an apartment on Sunday night and within 12 hours has all his worldly belongings ALREADY PACKED in his Sanford and Son junk van? A man who is living in that van. By the end of the day, the common area had gained a massive park bench and his balcony sported a giant wooden cigar store Indian. The worst part was that his son made a point of walking THEIR DOG right under my bedroom window.
It was that day that I mentally moved out of my homey apartment. I loved the space. But it was too much to think that my landlady was unwilling to rent the vacant place to me – her tenant of three years – and was willing to DROP THE RENT for Mr. Sanford. I took the rest of the day to look at places and apply for one where I ended up moving.
The best part of this story is that my old place was vacant from the end of October until just the other day AND Mr. Sanford did a runner. I guess if she’d rented that apartment to me, she wouldn’t have had “two vacancies”.
My new place is so much nicer, so I should really thank Mr. Sanford for lighting a fire under me. If I knew where he was, I mean. 🙂