.....and by red, I mean angry.

My rent is not any less than that paid by the people who live upstairs and make all kinds of noise until all hours of the night, despite the woman - who I'm pretty sure is the only adult actually on the lease - claiming heart problems and ill health. I understand that the lawn needs to be mowed and raked, yes, but this is not solely my responsibility, or that of my husband; in fact, given that the upstairs neighbors pay the same as we do and have the larger portion of the basement as well as the complete attic while we only have the smaller part of the basement and half of the garage, I would argue that it's not my responsibility at all, but that of the people who are paying the same as we are for more amenities.

Yes, we've been late on our rent - so have they. You delight in telling us ever single trouble you have with your tenants, except for us, so I can only assume you're talking about us behind our backs the same way you are about everyone else.

Yes, we've had vermin problems, but despite your willingness to blame it on our mess (which does, indeed, exist much to my dismay) and our children, we never had such a problem until the city did sewer work in our front lawn (and never fixed said lawn properly on completion, I might add). Rats and mice generally do not come in through conveniently open doors; they stick to darker, quieter places than the place children run in and out of.

In short, you're a bad landlady. Sure, your house looks nice topically, and looked nicer before we moved in. Sure, we're slobs. But when a cupboard door falls off when it's touched and reveals more wood glue than actual wood, that can hardly be blamed on your new tenants.

No love,

We don't like you anymore than you like us, which is okay.  We don't (exactly) co-habitate, we don't run in the same circles.  We hardly need to be friends.  We do, however, need to cooperate.  Which is to say, you can't blame us for the troubles with the house when I can count on one hand the times I've seen the inside of your flat, and none were since you moved in.  You can't expect us to be happy with doing all the yard work while you sit on your balcony watching, or with the fact that you pay the same amount of rent as we do for more storage space and a lawn service.

No love,

Yeeeeeeeeeah, you have a job now, which is great.  I'm sure there are words to describe my elation at the return of a steady paycheck, but my vocabulary is limited and I don't feel like finding my thesaurus.  Regardless, yay you and gainful employment and being able to pay all the bills on time and not have my phone cut off for a few days every month because we can't cover the bill when it's due.

This does not excuse you from helping with the kids - you were pretty great about that while you were home, and I need you to continue to be great about it no.  Not while you're gone at work, obviously, but when you're home.  You need to make lunches and change diapers and check homework and all the rest of it just like I do, and that's before we even touch the mess that is our living space (and our storage/laundry space, but I only have so much time and will to write out my irritation).

It also does not excuse the absolute lack of your assistance in keeping our space clean, or in cleaning it up when it gets bad enough that I can't ignore it.  There is only one of me, and we have too many people in too small of a space.  I cannot, and will not do all the cleaning and tidying.  I understand you're tired when you get home from work and the last thing you want to do with your weekend is house cleaning, but that's no less true for me.  The difference here is that you get a paycheck for your work, and thus pay taxes, while I'm lucky if I get a smile, a hug and kiss, or a thank you.

I do love you, so I will close this in utter and complete irritation,




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