To my utmost disgust, my non-regional dvd player is toying with me. It breaks. I fix it. It works. It works again. It stops working. Blah. Fortunately, I have someone else's dvd player in the meantime. "Uptown Girls," though girly and silly, is one of the cutest movies of all time. It has some really classic lines, too. Dakota is an amazing actress. Obviously.
I have to write a letter to my landlord and my apartment manager about my hot water, which still smells of sulfur. Not the end of the world, you say? No, it's not. But it's been two months. TWO. I wrote two months ago to say I wanted it to stop smelling so bad. Nothing has changed.
Actually, when he (my apartment manager) last stopped by, he informed me that he noticed a "slight" hint when he checked it out (as I'd asked) over the weekend. Slight, my butt. However, somehow when stopping in my apartment the fact that my apartment door blew open unless it was dead-bolted escaped him. I gave him my best, "I know when people are lying to me," look and smiled sweetly, before asking him to fix it.
Two days later, my door was fixed. And despite my hoping that he had actually fixed the water heater, too, the water still smells of sulfur. Of course. And yesterday, as I was leaving for work, someone (never seen him before) asked me if I was the young woman whose door was broken. I said it was fixed. Evidently, my apartment manager didn't fix my door, either. The door is amazing, and fixed itself. Though I must admit I'm quite pleased with the door, I'm much more pissed with my landlord.
Is it extreme to inform them (the landlord and apartment manager) that they won't be receiving my rent check until my water stops smelling like sulfur? I hope not. Mostly because they will not see it until then. I may be young, and I may be ditzy, but I'm not a fun person to tick off. I play games with people who tick me off. I'm good at games. I usually win them.
Incompetence bothers me.