My landlord is an asshat. He’s getting a brand spanking new kitchen and laundry room, with Radiant-freaking-heat in his floors. Yet he doesn’t throw any money at the little problem he’s got below: during heavy rains or massive snow melts, the basement floods.
I especially enjoyed his commentary this past Saturday via phone. As I waded through 4 inches of standing water on my side of the basement (at that point his side, separated by a wall and a door to my side, had about 8 inches), he says with surprise: "It's not raining at all here in New York. The weather is great."
Brilliant! Why don’t you get your Franz-Ferdinand-skinny butt back to Boston and join the fun we’re having, I wanted to say. There’s nothing quite like a stroll through standing water to turn on an electric sump pump.
So the damage is done. Lost some photos, books, memorabilia. And some work files. The irony here is that stuff wouldn’t have been in the basement in the first place if not for all the stupid construction work Franz Landlord is having done. It was in a storage closet, an old staircase leading up to his apartment. But because he’s reclaiming half of the closet, he said I should remove everything to avoid all the construction dust.