2002-07-20 - 2:17 a.m.

It's 2:30 in the morning. Not an unusual time for me to be writing here.

But with my hair wet?

Yup. Just stepped outta the shower.

Yup, after two years of living in this apartment, the landlord, Mohtar, has finally decided to fix the bathroom tiles.

Those tiles were a problem when we moved in.

Two years ago.

And they got worse.

And worse.

What you want, perfect apartment?

(PSA�I wrote about this guy before and wanted to link to the entry, but couldn't find it. Sorry, flingiedo completists!)

Anyway, after two years of paying way too much for this place, living in the land of the porcelain god and the angry and unsteady fist, blah blah blah, the kind hearted bastard finally decides to fix the tiles.

With a month or so left on the lease.

And with new tenants moving in.

What a nice guy.

He originally gave us just one day's notice that some dude was gonna key his way into our domicile, tear up our bathroom, and render the place inhabitable for more than a day, and so on. Yay!

I called him seventeen times before I finally got someone�one of his cronies:

Yes, can I speak with Mohtar?

SPEAK! Neferaganshu urdigi!

Hello? Is Mohtar available?

Speak! Tin meenightue!

OK. Um. You want me to call back in ten minutes?

BETA MANAGEMENT!!!

And that was the end of the conversation.

Anyway, way more than ten minutes later, I used my executive interviewing skills to convince Mohtar to graciously allow us to have our bathroom ripped up and then repaired for the next tenant a week later, on a Saturday as opposed to a Sunday.

That was my victory. In your face!

The Roommate and the (ex) get to shower before going to work.

Me? My hair is almost dry. Headin' to the Big Company tomorrow.

And this repair nonsense sucks for all of us.

Except Mohtar.

BETA MANAGEMENT!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!