She's No Mr. Roper

So I don’t think my new landlady likes me. My chummy “Hey there” was met with a rather surly “Humph” this afternoon. And I’m now very afraid to ask her to fix either my consta-draining bathtub or my backwards sink. I don’t know if my delicate demeanor can take another “Humph.”

It all started on the day I moved in. First I rose a stink about not being able to check in until mid-afternoon. I got my way with that one.

Then I showed up in rather groddy moving attire. She saw me, looked me up and down, and said, “Have I met you before?” The tone was not positive.

The last straw, though, was my feeble attempt at ice-breaking humor. While checking me in, she explained the policy on my parking in her parking spot. The conversation was as follows.

“You are never, ever, ever, ever, ever, ever, ever to park in my spot.”

“Ever?”

“No. Never.”

“How about on Mondays?”

“I said never.”

That last never was delivered without a trace of humor and was followed by a deftly maneuvered spin in the other direction. My theory is that the spin led straightforwardly to this afternoon’s “Humph.”

Or perhaps I’m just paranoid.