I will not live on State Street next year.

The issue of water from above has come up again. The landlord called me today and told me that, aside from rent being due, water was coming into the Yellow Jersey bike shop above the cash register. He then proceeded to issue forth a bunch of falsehoods fed him by the guy holding his leash, Mr. Bikes-n-Cocaine -- our infamous downstairs neighbor.

Falsehood one: Water's been coming in like this for months. Doubtful. Why? Because we'd have heard about it by now. It's true that water usage in our apartment did roughly concur with this report, but Mr. Bikes-n-Cocaine is not one to beat around the bush when it comes to his hydrophobia. He has proven in the past that he proactively kicks some ass.

Falsehood two: He's confronted my roommate about this before, on different occasions, and was laughed at. Neither my roommate nor I have ever had a conversation with Mr. Bikes-n-Cocaine, with the one exception of when I picked up the keys to the place, referenced here.

I clench up inside every time I go home, anxious that some water came through our floor, into the bike shop's ceiling, and the man from the land of bad Russian hair design is waiting with a handgun. Or the threat of one. That's no way to have to live.


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