it's not where i am, it's who i'm with

Every once in a great while I'll have one of those days where I wish I was still renting an apartment rather than owning a home. It usually happens when I start to think about the drama involved in selling a house or the constant upkeep. But I am immediately brought back to reality when I think about my last apartment, where we lived above our landlords. Although I pretty much despised my time there, when I look back, I usually get a good laugh about how odd an experience it really was.

When we first signed our lease, we think our landlord knew our names. As the months went by, we noticed gradual changes of Rob's name on our rent receipts. The month we moved out, our receipt was for Ron Williamson.

We were told by the previous tenants of the apartment that our land-lady's name was Cling-on. They were wrong, but not too far off.

To get to our apartment, you would have to walk behind the house and up a metal staircase. The view from the staircase was of a large pile (I'm talking an entire backyard) of driftwood and animal bones. And a shed full of garbage.

We had poop-brown shag carpet, and for some reason our landlords seemed to cook a lot of potatoes and onions. Our apartment constantly smelled like food.

They decided not to take out some windows when putting an addition on the house. So when you pulled the blinds on some of our windows, you'd only see insulation.

Our landlady named her dog after her husband, and he found it flattering.

While walking to the car one day (I was pregnant with Maddie) Cling-on noticed my maternity pants. She said, "HEY! You found yerself some of those funny pants! I seen them at Sears, and got myself some too! Aren't they comfy?"

She used to feed the stray cats in the neighborhood, but never with cat food. We'd walk outside to see cats surrounding plates of cheerios, or spaghetti and meatballs.

Then there was THIS story.

We heard the phrase git-er-done on a daily basis. Usually as a goodbye. Example:

Me: I'm just headed to the store.

Him: Okay, well, git-er-done. (often said with a half salute)

Don't get me wrong, the lady was a hoot, and so was the husband. But man....living there sure was an interesting experience. I'm glad I have memories like these to help me appreciate my lack of landlords.