So last night I got a call from my landlord at 9 pm. I was still working at the office so it went to my voicemail.
Apparently he wanted to get into my apartment this morning to make some repairs that the housing authority told him to do. The housing authority toured my apartment about two weeks ago.
This week has been hectic. I’ve had choir practice/dress rehearsals every night. In addition, this is a short work week (therefore my story deadline was moved back a day) and two reporters who share my beat are on vacation… the perfect storm. In other words, my place is not tidy. In fact, I’ve been lucky if I get 5 hours sleep each night.
The place is cleaner than usual but not enough for me to be comfortable with my landlord traipsing around the place.
I was at work until about 9:30 last night. And when I got home I ran around the house making sure all potentially “embarrassing” items were tucked away in in drawers/trash/laundry bins.
But I didn’t have time to wash the sink full of dishes, clean off the couch from paperwork and unsorted mail or pick up cookbooks, novels and crochet books that were strewn around the living room, among other things.
My landlord is pretty low maintenance. He doesn’t bother me very much and I appreciate that. The downside is that he isn’t very good at telling me things I need to know until the last minute–if at all.
I’m not sure what he needs to fix in my apartment but I guess I’ll find out.
So this morning I locked my dog in the bedroom — and by locked I mean I stuffed a t-shirt in the crack of the bedroom door when I shut it. Ran around the back yard to make sure my dog hadn’t left any little smelly gifts, and dashed for the bus.
I’ve made it through the worst of it now.
I have tomorrow off from work and a concert in the evening but I’m going to spend most of the day tomorrow cleaning. Oh and I’m picking up an “older Danish-style upholstered chair”–whatever that means… form someone using freecycle. I need another chair in my living room so I can put away another folding chair.