03 January 2009

My landlord, a good man

In December, I was fighting back mold and thought that maybe the whole outside wall in bedroom was going to rot out. Well, we got back from the States and there was no mold to speak of in the bedroom. This was good news and I wasn't thinking much about it until I got a call from the letting agency saying that my landlord still wanted to come by and see the situation. He came over and the apartment was a mess, but I explained the whole thing and he looked it over. We got to chatting and it turns out he has a two bedroom apartment not too far from here that he is going to want to let in about two or three months. No better way to get out of contract than to sign a new one with the same landlord for a better place. We'll have to see what it looks like and how much he wants.

He left and about five minutes later, the doorbell rang again and it was him saying, 'I just realized that I saw your bicycle up in your bedroom. It must be really hard to carry it up and down. Here why don't you keep it down in the storage space under the stairs that your neighbors are using.' This was a huge, huge gift as now I don't have to choose between dragging the bike up the stairs and leaving it under the crappy plastic cover I have for it, but has been not really doing its job. Now, I know it is safe and dry downstairs.

I put the front closet together and moved some stuff up into the attic, so we have a little more space now and I'm feeling positive about our whole set-up here.

I rode the bike up to Willen Lake with the new brake levers I got for Christmas, which just make the bike feel tighter than before. It's hard to explain, but when you have your bike adjusted well, everything reacts really well and you can be aggressive on it. I ran one time around Willen Lake, and it feels like my body is wicked sore.

Now to pass my driver's test and get on with life.

Naomi went to bed at 8 tonight without too much crying which means she is adjusted back to English time, I think. It's funny how you just slip back into thinks after having been in another country, some thousands of miles away, for a week.