March 13th; Bond Street Tyrants

It is Saturday afternoon and I am sitting in Fleming College typing this baby up. It is raining and my motivation to bike back to the house in meagre at best.

I am a few days early for posting a journal but I feel as if I have rather important to things to be discussing (aka I have something to say and want at least someone to share it with).

I have been living in this grand, old house in Lindsay, Ontario for over a year now. The location is great and the house is spacious. Last September I was introduced to three great people, two of which still live with me know. They have become fantastic friends and I hope to remain in contact them even after our college days are over. All in all, I am happy there and consider it like a section home.

However, there is a problem. It is my landlords. Well…the landlady.

I feel as if I need someone to support that these people are not positive spectrum of crazy. Here are some items as evidence.

(a) The woman loves the smell of stripe skunk spray.

(b) She once said, after complimenting me and displayed modesty, “You know I am not putting you on a pedestal. Your brain failed to synapse a few times this year. You were part of the couch incident” (which, in truth, I was not).

(c) She openly taunts and torments her six year old daughter and calls her retarded.

(d) She fanatically cleans the house, noting that we the housemates have “attempted” to clean, and mentions her disgust of us; thus undermining our efforts.

There are more examples but my purpose is to say that I am considering moving because of just how awkward and demeaning she can be to my housemates, her family and me. Additionally, I kind of have been offered a room at a house that is closer to the college, cheaper and where the landlords do not come every three weeks to make me feel unclean and anxious. I am usually not this critical. Something is wrong with me...

Maybe it is the fact I have four tests next week. Perhaps it has to do with how tired I am from standing for 5 hours in order to skin a Virginia Opossum (Didelphis virginiana) and not even getting half way done. It could even be that I am pissy that the landlady says that I have changed my personality for the worse. Whatever the reason, I do not like how stirred up I get when she is around. I don’t like that I am feeling afraid to go back to that house.