"I just can't justify the cost of a mini-split." Her landlord texted her.
They had agreed on him installing AC by Summer. It was the only reason she'd signed the lease and moved in was based on that promise.
She knew not getting it in writing would be her downfall.
Not that she really wanted to stay here. Her 1926 divorcée stone cottage was adorable. A little "shotgun" style house with a creepy murder basement and very narrow stairs that shifted under anyone's weight. Everyone was scared to go down, but compelled to due to curiosity.
Aesthetically, it was almost perfect with it's archways and faux crystal door handles.
But as she would find in the coming months, there was a complete lack of care on the landlord's part, both in practice and in attitude. He told her to "let the water run for a little bit" in order to get the dirt out. She used her brita filter for even her ice cubes. She never felt clean after a shower.
The wiring was so bad the electrician said he should probably call it in. If it wasn't a stone cottage it would go up like a match.
The toilet backed up every third flush, even if you weren't flushing anything.
There wasn't a single bit of tile flooring that didn't have a crack in it, and the dirt got tracked in like crazy.
There was no reason except that it was "cute" to stay.
About a month after he told her he wasn't installing AC, she was settled into an apartment, just down the street from the one she and KSL shared.
Time to start again.
