Monday, August 30, 2010
Bluto Just Met Popeye
Trying to get us some peace after moving a second time in five months, I decided to take time to do laundry and other domestic chores. Wednesday, walking out back to the coin-operated laundry that serves the four-plex we moved into a week ago, I noticed a lot of dripping from the roof plants the tenant above us located on top of the laundry room. Only problem is the dripping is also happening inside over the washing machine. Imagining the roof caving in this winter and forcing us to haul our dirty clothes down to a laundromat, I phoned the landlady to tell her she might be needing a new roof.
Next day, the delinquent tenant, after loudly complaining about me to other tenants, confronts me for snitching about the damage he is doing to the property. To which I replied that he was out of line, in the wrong, and messing with the wrong guy.
Minutes after I put him in his place, the next door neighbor came over to thank me for standing up to the neighborhood bully, who according to her, had been harassing young women and seniors and had everyone intimidated until I showed up. Later on Friday, the landlady phoned to say she had inspected the damage in both the laundry room and the blowhard’s apartment, and had ordered him to get rid of his mess. Saturday, Bluto was whining to other tenants that I had got him kicked out, and that he had nowhere to go.
Sunday, the plumber for the building said big mouth was a convicted felon, and that I should watch out.
All I can say to that is that Bluto just met Popeye.
Next day, the delinquent tenant, after loudly complaining about me to other tenants, confronts me for snitching about the damage he is doing to the property. To which I replied that he was out of line, in the wrong, and messing with the wrong guy.
Minutes after I put him in his place, the next door neighbor came over to thank me for standing up to the neighborhood bully, who according to her, had been harassing young women and seniors and had everyone intimidated until I showed up. Later on Friday, the landlady phoned to say she had inspected the damage in both the laundry room and the blowhard’s apartment, and had ordered him to get rid of his mess. Saturday, Bluto was whining to other tenants that I had got him kicked out, and that he had nowhere to go.
Sunday, the plumber for the building said big mouth was a convicted felon, and that I should watch out.
All I can say to that is that Bluto just met Popeye.
