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June 2009 
Landlord, Day 3
Posted on Apr 15th, 2007
by 
Professor
Professor
LANDLORD, DAY 3
I made such a deal with the landlord. It might not sound so good to you but I have no complaints. It's work in exchange for renting the space above the garage.
This "carriage house" might-could actually be rented except for its bowing, slumping and leaning due to the shifting foundation and ground level biodegradation. Entropy happens. One corner droops nearly 18 inches. (Wait 'til I get photos.) The stairwell holds the middle up and the whole thing slants to the west by southwest with a twisted list. A mint Porche is parked inside the east bay because the west side floods in heavy rain. It's nowhere near as wet as it was before I did some minor excavations.
The apartment boasts three rooms with kitchen and bath. There's the bedroom, an office, the living/dining/art-studio/tool room, a short hall and a steep set of stairs. It's one-hundred-and-one years old. I've been here a couple of years.
The main house is a mansion and divided into three apartments. Second floor sports two fireplaces and two full baths. First floor has one of each but more grandeur overall. Third floor--not too shabby. When the landlord goes away, I'm entrusted with property management such as it is. He once had more: lost two houses and an auto repair shop due to bad habits. On those occasions when the landlord is off on an extended stay, say in jail, I spend days at his computer with its 22 inch monitor, highspeed internet connection, etc. Yet I accomplish more caretaking and building maintenance while he's away. Why? I can't work with him and I won't work around him. He puts up with my intollerance and distance pretty well, I guess.
My personal hovel could be worse. I've slowed the building's descent, perhaps prevented its collapse with makeshift props. Scavenged, scarf-jointed lumber. An upright I-beam for the main beam. Masterfully I utilized three hydraulic jacks to lift the building, little by little, until a joist split with a tearing, splintering sound.
Gravity may win but for now I'll maintain things with what levity I can muster up. It may be considered a death trap but I'm just not ready to go. But I'm fixin' to be ready when the time comes.
c. 2007, H.M.J.
I made such a deal with the landlord. It might not sound so good to you but I have no complaints. It's work in exchange for renting the space above the garage.
This "carriage house" might-could actually be rented except for its bowing, slumping and leaning due to the shifting foundation and ground level biodegradation. Entropy happens. One corner droops nearly 18 inches. (Wait 'til I get photos.) The stairwell holds the middle up and the whole thing slants to the west by southwest with a twisted list. A mint Porche is parked inside the east bay because the west side floods in heavy rain. It's nowhere near as wet as it was before I did some minor excavations.
The apartment boasts three rooms with kitchen and bath. There's the bedroom, an office, the living/dining/art-studio/tool room, a short hall and a steep set of stairs. It's one-hundred-and-one years old. I've been here a couple of years.
The main house is a mansion and divided into three apartments. Second floor sports two fireplaces and two full baths. First floor has one of each but more grandeur overall. Third floor--not too shabby. When the landlord goes away, I'm entrusted with property management such as it is. He once had more: lost two houses and an auto repair shop due to bad habits. On those occasions when the landlord is off on an extended stay, say in jail, I spend days at his computer with its 22 inch monitor, highspeed internet connection, etc. Yet I accomplish more caretaking and building maintenance while he's away. Why? I can't work with him and I won't work around him. He puts up with my intollerance and distance pretty well, I guess.
My personal hovel could be worse. I've slowed the building's descent, perhaps prevented its collapse with makeshift props. Scavenged, scarf-jointed lumber. An upright I-beam for the main beam. Masterfully I utilized three hydraulic jacks to lift the building, little by little, until a joist split with a tearing, splintering sound.
Gravity may win but for now I'll maintain things with what levity I can muster up. It may be considered a death trap but I'm just not ready to go. But I'm fixin' to be ready when the time comes.
c. 2007, H.M.J.
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