My laptop has fallen victim to an untimely disease: old age. The poor soul to be taken too soon, has seen better days. Now near the end of its lifespan, it is only a matter of time before it takes its last breath and joins all my deceased Nokias and Tamagotchis that have gone before it. Maybe in its next life it could play to its strengths, and be reincarnated as a refrigerator.
Nowadays it is known to act up. The battery on it has already bid farewell to this cruel world, the hard drive has for all intents and purposes passed away, and the keys of the keyboard are so faded that I feel like I'm relearning the alphabet on a biweekly basis. It has lost all of its independence. It is like a spoilt, overindulged toddler these days needing constantly to be spoon-fed, consistently demanding what's left of my patience. I could realistically start applying for some assistance for it, a patch up job, but I've chosen to allow it go with some remaining integrity. Especially considering it has taken what's left of mine.
Lately, leaving it unattended results in a sea of pop up ads, the majority of them featuring a loud, phony pre-recorded sales pitch, explaining how simple it is for me to make millions if I surrender my credit card details immediately.
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| ( Picture via Kezj.com ) |
So, yesterday my landlord called for the rent. For the last two weeks I have been living by myself, with the Summer holidays almost over and the upcoming academic year due to start there has been a lot of reshuffling, each of my house-mates have one-by-one moved out, with new ones to come. He's aware of this.
He's one of those people that simply exude confidence, actively depicting someone that doesn't bear embarrassment and when/if he does it's just a minuscule bit detectable only to the human eye using a magnifying glass or fine-toothed comb.
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| ( Picture via Architecture.phillipmartin.info ) |
Just as I had the door opened, this loud fraud of an American started chanting all these repeated empty promises about an extravagant lifestyle of yachts, private islands and trophy wives for him to hear.
Landlord: "I'm here for the rent," he said sheepishly, not too bothered by the weird, slightly paranormal voices transcending from the living room.
Me: "Right, two seconds I have it left in the kitchen." Both my fingers, toes, and eyes crossed that he wouldn't notice the hysteria inside that was increasing in volume.
Landlord: "Are you home alone?"
Me: "Yep! I am," I gushed unconvincingly, handing him over the month's rent.
Pop up advert: "Are you poor? Are you failing to meet this month's bills? Today, right now, I am offering you an incredible chance to make a substantial amount of money with ease, there is no catch."
Me: "Thanks for calling, is that everything?" I said indignantly.
Landlord: "Do you mind if I see what you're watching in the living room?" He had every reason to believe I was hosting an Avon or Cash For Gold convention, on the sly.
Me: "Eh?" I blinked confusedly, trying to make sense of what he was talking about (at this point it is a possibility that I might have tried to mentally check out of the conversation to avoid further mortification.)
He then breezed past me, obviously one of those proprietors who believes that owning something allows complete access to every corner and fingerbreadth of the building, with or without my permission.
Landlord: "Is this a conference call?" He overstated, slightly startled.
Me: "No, my laptop just does this sometimes." There was a 'businesswoman' consuming the screen wearing a push-up bra roughly two sizes too small for her.
Landlord: "Oh, you're probably watching too much bad content on it."
I'm not a deluded man. I don't expect a future without further humiliation or embarrassment, but I also don't think it's unreasonable for me to hope that someday I can face an encounter with someone (who has the power to make me homeless) without the poisonous handiwork of my laptop getting involved.
Clearly, I'm asking for too much. Maybe I should follow suit and raise the white flag too?
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| ( Picture via Sodahead.com ) |
loved your post. Hope my new landlord is understanding. Kerry from www.fabuliciousfifty.com
ReplyDeleteDanke! Yes, the less dealings we have with them the better in my opinion. Appreciate you commenting :)
Deleteeh your landlord sounds well nosey! great post Patrick!
ReplyDeletewww.saibhegan.wordpress.com
Thanks gal pal <3
DeleteAh jhaysus, Patrick you creaturrh!
ReplyDeleteI had to back track to double check this wasn't fiction! The landlords a bit brazing, isn't he? You're right on the confidence, he overtakes the scale itself.
Something strange happened to me today, too. I was in Dunnes buying (for the last time, like ever) bits and pieces for my uniform going back to do this aul Leaving Cert. And a woman who works there came up to me and went; "Are you looking for something for your little one?"
Me, having the hectic morning that I had, did anything for a peaceful life and needed help so I went along with it.
"Ah yeah" I went, "Do you have a pair of these in a 31-32"?"
Boom, they were presented.
"Ah, is he a little dote?" She goes
"Aye, going into the senior enfants now. He's delira to be heading back".
This happened!!
Maybe it's the short hair, or the navy striped top I was wearing that was giving me the maternal look today, who knows. It got me what I needed to get anyway!!
Your story though should be popped in a book somewhere soon, it's brilliant. And a joyous read, as always.
Catherine xo
Lol! I love it. You should have got the ball rolling and requested a single parent's discount. And gave an oppressive back story, on the father. Maybe there'll be another chapter to your tale?
DeleteYes, the book is half filled after two and a half years of sharing these sort of stories. But with my luck, there's another one probably just around the corner. Penguin could be worth pitching a series too?
Good luck in the leaving cert, I managed mine without losing too much blood, let Breathing Sliver Linings be a needed distraction xx