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just saw my landlord as i was exiting the building to drop off my laundry and tried to engage in niceties as quickly as possible before i could squirt away. i get back home and peel off my already damp t-shirt while filling a glass with ice for my newly purchased liter of coconut water, deciding then to turn the fan back on despite the racket (now i know why it was on sale at century 21) only to feel heat emanating from the back of the fan. my initial thought that it was hot from the motor as it had been on for the better part of three days but then i realized the base was hot as well. did i mention that the fan is perched on the radiator?
so i call down to the landlord, and yes, i know my cell phone is shitty but we get into an abbott and costello routine over who he is actually speaking to. maybe he had an even louder fan purchased sometime in the mesozoic made from teradactyl wings. (i have no idea if dinosaurs existed then. another demerit for myself and the american school system.) he calls me by nearly every name of every other tenant in the building including that of his eighty plus year old best friend living on the floor below. at first i was sure he was making a joke but by the end while literally screaming into the phone i just accepted whatever name he was calling me at the time, that being "al", my upstair neighbor.
once the name puzzle had been solved we got on to the meat of the conversation. i shrieked into the phone at least a half a dozen times that the heat was on in the building before the pilot light in his head caught wind of what i was trying to impart, and undoubtedly the knit in his brow at that moment turned from confusion to consternation. "i'll go switch it off," he said with an exasperated tone. "that's costing me money!" i couldnt argue with that logic and shouted my approval before hanging up.