Part 2:
By Mr.e

They’re still here: the landlords.

Just today Mr. Landlord decided to take part in a little activity that is frequently credited to Canadian types. The lumber jack thing.

I just happened to glance out of the kitchen window to see my esteemed landlord struggling with a wild bunch of plastic twine, at his feet several body lengths of cedar branches, just hacked from a neighbors tree. These branches hung well into our yard, proffering the only natural and welcome privacy from the northern neighbor across the lane.

Then I saw his overkill Swede saw lying in the grass nearby which reminded me that this was the same landlord who had (so tells the neighbor whose been here since before the landlord has) cut down 16 trees on the property upon purchasing the house almost six years ago.

Every time I mow the grass I come face to face with the ugly reminders of trees cut down for no good reason: stumps. One corner of our garden still bears witness to the fact that once a fair sized cherry tree once offered shade and added character to the lot.

There are still two trunks on the lot itself that may or may not survive this mans wood cutting urges. But hey, I’m glad he didn’t bring in some pony, some funky outfits, build a makeshift corral and experiment with the cowboy thing.

These days laundry is a forced exercise in shared appliances, timing and inconsiderate, bordering on rude behavior. Yesterday I headed down to do some laundry. I see him (landlord) loading the washer and checking the load in the dryer. I put down my own basket after speaking a friendly greeting. He knew I had laundry to do. That was at 9am.

Landlord and family left their basement penthouse at a few minutes before 11am. I went down to make sure that both machines were empty and that the landlord was finished with them. He was not. Both had loads in them. One wet, the other damp. Both machines were not running. That got me rather peeved.

They returned after 11pm and finished their laundry the next morning. That one got me really peeved.

Oh yeah, this one is good. It’s a day or so after the major Christmas day holiday. Not long before that holiday we had a bit of wood delivered to the house.

A few days later we’re enjoying a nice cozy. There is a knock on the front door. It’s the landlord.

He really tries to get a better look inside as he attempts to make himself understood. His English is not so good. I’m surprised he has come to the front door. We deal with a property manager, remember!

The long and short of it is that he wanted to know if we ever had the chimney checked out or cleaned by a professional. My answer is "No, but we used it last winter too, with ill affects." This seemed a new concept to him.

Then he went on to insist that poison gas could come down and do something horrible to his family. They inhabit the basement suite. I assured him that fire safety was a top most priority when dealing with a fireplace. I insisted that we were not careless. "I’d be happy to look into getting the chimney checked out and cleaned at if it makes you feel better," I assured him. He left.

And I left to fax our property manager what had just transpired and wondered how this would be handled, seeing how the landlord is physically present now. It’s been a week and no word yet.

We’ve not lit another fire in the fireplace since then. Not yet. If I don’t hear anything soon, I’ll burn some Christmas paper and pine needles and perhaps ad a few logs to a cozy fire.

Heck no, I’m not going to spring to have the chimney inspected. That’s the landlords’ obligation. No where in the lease does it say we can’t or are not supposed to use the fireplace.