The Straw That Broke the Camel’s Back

Last week the hubs and I returned from our vacation to find our landlords on vacation and the front lock jammed.  We had been having problems turning the key in the lock for quite some time and while we were away it went from bad to worse. 

So at 10pm that night we head out to take Brady on a little walk and lock the door behind us.  We return to find out that the lock won’t budge.  After struggling with it for quite some time hubs finally gives up and calls the landlord.

Who proceeds to tell him that we’ve broken the lock and this is all our fault.  He tries to blame it on our friend who had stayed at our apartment during the week to take care of Brady.  Considering she has a college degree any common sense I’m pretty sure she knows how to unlock the front door without breaking it.

Hubs finally breaks into the apartment through a second floor window and lets me in.  Then we get another call from the landlord.  The conversation started off on a normal note and all of a sudden he flips a switch and just starts going off on hubs.  He started yelling at hubs and telling him how much he hates me, and hubs, and we’re the worst tenants ever.  He wishes we would move out but knows we’ll stay just to spite him.  He won’t renew our lease (ooh, big threat) and won’t put in the new windows he’d promised us.

Really?  Did we just get that childish?

Next thing I know I hear hubs say, “Fine, we’re moving out” and hangs up.

Having not heard any of the conversation I was totally in shock that hubs just promised that we would move out without so much as discussing it with me.  But after he replayed the conversation I was 100% on board.

The next morning we start looking online and calling brokers and we would tell them that we’re a young married couple, no kids, good budget.  They would tell us all about potential properties and we would add, “Oh yea, and we have a dog…”

Dial Tone.

It was like we were asking if we could move into the apartment with our pet lion and could we also store our explosives in the basement?  No one wants dogs in their apartment, and even more so if it’s too big to fit in a handbag.

And to finish off this weak of little stress I had a dentist appointment where I’m pretty sure the hygienist was taking out her anger on my teeth. 

And then the dentist told me I have a cavity.

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