by thecustomhouse

This weekend, my landlord was a real jerk.  He had outrageous expectations never before communicated to me (scrubbing your shower, stovetop, sinks daily, anyone?) and called my incredibly neat and tidy home a pit.  For the last few days his anger has stuck with me, like mean words echoing and reechoing in a bell.  I don’t know why all the lovely things people say pass through so quickly, with no trace left behind, and the words I should take no notice of stand like careless footprints muddying my floors.  I wish it were otherwise.