Hot Fuzz

I really have a kid this good. He’s been in his pack-n-play since 8:15 this morning happily playing with his toys. (it’s almost 10:15 now as I’m writing) The one contingency? Music must be playing at all times. He actually gets mad in that 2 second pause b/t songs! He had a fever yesterday so we’re taking it easy at home today.

The landlords’ friend… ah, I mean “Plummer” just left our house. In my closet, the carpet has been damp and you can smell the mold. My shoe holder has fuzz growing on it now. Great! But wait, there-in lies the beauty, we don’t OWN this house! Call the Landlord to fix it! Hmm. It’s too easy. And it was. He went outside to check the water meter to see if it was running, b/c that would tell us if there was a leak inside. He told me that there was no leak, so presto its fixed. As he is telling me this I’m looking over his sholder to my sink in the bathroom that is steadily leaking out drops of water as it always has since we moved in. So since it’s “fixed” now, (speaking in barely understandable english, he is of asian descent,) then there is “no problem”. The fuzz in my closet protests otherwise, but the communication barrier b/t us rears its ugly head. He has left happy today. Wet, moldy carpet with fuzz must be a norm in his house or something, b/c there was “no problem” with mine.