Well, the missus is being sent back out to Vegas for another week, and again I'm here by my lonesome, but don't you worry about me. I'm not missing out on anything fun. See, the missus is from Vegas. Her family still lives there, and she's actually just going out there to see the doctor, since she still has insurance under her parents' provider.
She and I have both visited Vegas more times than I care to remember, and believe it or not, it is possible to get tired of it. Plus, I don't gamble. Isn't there a special place in hell for people who gamble away their government issued unemployment money at a craps table in a seedy Las Vegas hotel?
But like I said, don't you worry about me. When I'm not setting fire to dogs with my psychic abilities, I've got another hobby. Landlord. As you may recall, I live in a townhouse in suburbia, with terrible neighbors that can burn in the furthest corners of hell. My brother-in-law's trainwreck of an ex-wife used to live in the townhouse a few houses down from us, and now that she's gone and my brother-in-law has no money, my fiance's family is left paying for a townhouse that currently resembles a three-story dumpster.
The ex-wife that lived there smoked like a train, and if you didn't know that, you'd find out quickly enough when you stepped in the door and got hit by a wall of smoke that's like an emphysema flavored slap to the face. There are still cigarette butts everywhere; on tables, on the floor, in the garbage disposal (WTF right?), mashed in the carpet. The carpet, speaking of which, is toast. In addition to the butts/ash stains, her kid had a fun habit of smashing playdough and pudding and many other unidentifiable liquids into the carpet.
I'm pretty sure every time you walk into this building, you knock 5 years off of your lifespan.
So my fiance and I have been cleaning it up and getting it ready to rent out, and with her gone to Vegas, that leaves me in charge of everything. I'm now the Slumlord of Suburbia, which is a damn shame because as a guy who's in good shape and doesn't smoke, I don't feel qualified to be a slumlord. But a lot needs to be done to this dump, and I'm starting to feel the role overtaking me. I had to go over there today to throw away some more junk, and the stuff I keep finding is ridiculous.
God I hate that house.
Stay classy, friends,
Mood: A little creeped out
Beer: Bring on many of them
Shower: As long as she isn't in there