The past few weeks have been a real downer for me, so I’ve kind of been in this real pensive mood, listening to Charlie Parker and eating peanut butter & strawberry jam sandwiches, which is something I do when I am feeling sad and blue, but nearly a week ago, on Sunday, September 11, 2005, I wasn’t feeling sad at all, no I was feeling quite joyful as a jazzman, as I silently celebrated my one year anniversary into virtual freedom!One dreary summer ago, when apartment dwelling for me was a virtual swampland of fun and excitement, what with it being rainy season and I was down and out in suburbia, I received notice from my then current landlady that she didn’t like the way I was living and decided to raise the rent by $75 to a whopping $650 (from $575)!
For on a bright and sunny Saturday, September 11, 2004, I moved out of the flood-drenched basement apartment where I dwelled and so began my climb toward my year of freedom...but back to the story!
Well, I didn’t like the way I was living either. Illegal raids. Water & gas bills that were included in the rent but not paid for on time. Mail never received or if it did arrive was weeks late or opened. Breaking dishes from the house above me. Barking dogs at all hours of the night. Weekly floods. Disrespect. Crazy antics by the landlady.
When I first moved into that terrible apartment, back in February, 2002, I didn’t know much about the place, other than it looking like a nice place to live, since it was a converted farmhouse built in 1891. But, oh! How I learned quickly that it was a moving decision that I would regret for the next two and a half years of my life.
My old two-bedroom apartment in Chicago was terrific; a steal at $550! But alas, it was being turned into condominium property; such was the case for a couple of buildings on that block that I lived on. So I had to go looking for a place and sure enough, there was a space at a house I used to pass by everyday when I used to work my day job at Chandler’s in Evanston in the middle 1980s.
A charming basement apartment beneath that beautiful old purple house I used to pass by so long ago. Little did I know back then what I was about to get myself into; a two and a half year nightmare! But I digress.
Back then, life was miserable. I was still paying off my Saturn, bills piled high like thick salami & onion sandwiches and in some respects I thought there way no way out. So of course, I took this apartment. I remember meeting with the landlady at that time. She seemed nice enough. She sat downstairs with one of her then three yapping mini-Brazilian pinschers on her lap, petted and stroked it as she spoke to me.
She told me the apartment was vacated, by someone who apparently never came back from work one day. Just left everything intact as if nothing was amiss. I didn’t know much about the situation, but she told me she could have everything finished for me by and I could move in early February. Somehow I managed to avoid paying her a security deposit. I never did pay her a security deposit either. Only once did I pay her a partial security deposit, but during a cleaning session she told me about one day, she “accidentally” threw my check away.
Herein the trust for my landlady slowly began to crumble...
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