Landlords

Maybe its because we’re so close to owning our own home. Maybe its because I’m home dying from a cold. Maybe its because I don’t want to clean my house. For whatever reason, I have decided today, actually about 5 minutes ago, that I do not like my landlords. Sure, they’re nice enough. But they just barge into our house at any given time. And lately they have been bringing their entire families – including a month old infant, a 2 year old, a grandmother, and their dog.

They sometimes give us warnings like, “We might stop by on Tuesday.” And then they just show up in enormous groups and come trampsing through our house. I mean, I understand that it is technically their house, but we pay rent here. Don’t we deserve the courtesy of, say, a doorbell?

Now, as much as I don’t like them being here, my dogs go crazy. But its not their fault (says their adoring mother). I put them in their crates when the landlords come around because they bring so many kids and family that I can’t concentrate on standing on the hole in the carpet, listening to what they are saying, AND wrestling two dogs. So I crate the dogs and they go insane. They bark, they whine, they moan. And what do the landlords do? They complain.

This morning our landlord barged in around 11:00, followed by her mother-in-law, her toddler, and her newborn. I heard the key turning in the door, and immediately the dogs go crazy. I raise myself out of my sickness-induced haze and tackle the dogs before they can tackle the landlord’s small children. As I’m scooping Lucy up and trying to pull Molly by her collar, I hear the landlord say to her mother-in-law, “Lets wait so their crazy dogs don’t maul us.”  WHAT?!?!  I almost felt like letting the dogs go and just pretending I didn’t notice they were getting licked to death and wacked by Molly’s beaver-like tail.

I did manage to yell out through the door just as they were barging in, “Can you give me a minute to crate the dogs? Thanks!” But inside I was yelling out, “Ever heard of a doorbell, honey?” So I wrangle the dogs into their crates and throw some apple slices at them to keep them quiet (which doesn’t work and instead becomes applesauce as the dogs jump around inside their crates). By the time I turn around, there they all are, standing in my bedroom.

Granted, they are coming around more often because they are showing the apartment since we are moving out soon (not soon enough for me…), but how about a little respect for our home?   Could they give us a call before time?  Ring a doorbell?  Knock?  Am I asking too much? Has my Benedryl gone to my head? Is my cough making me cranky? I don’t think so.

42 days till we move…