I struggled to keep my eyes open on the drive from Manchester Airport. It had been a trying day and I was ready to be home. After a week in Italy we were on our way. Arriving at Fuimicino in Rome we found out our flight to Dulles had been cancelled. "Snow" they told us. "Didn't anyone tell you?"Who would have told us, I wondered. You're the flight people. Luckily we were re-routed through Munich on a congenial German airline. Adam was sloppy drunk before we boarded after spending three hours in a German bar. He continued sucking down scotch for the better part of the nine hour flight. I spent my time reading Antic Hay and wishing I was a 1920's jet setter. After landing in Boston, we spent $150 on a rental car to drive the one hour to Manchester. It was worth every penny to get home. As we drove North on Route 89, I could not wait to see my cats and climb into bed.
We unloaded our bags and entered the narrow stairwell to our apartment. There was construction equipment blocking our way, and I had a bad feeling about what was behind the door. Our landlord said she planned to do a little work to our closet and promised she would carefully remove our clothing and put it back in place before we came home. "No big deal" we said.
We climbed over the shop vac and lumber and opened the door.
Oh my god.
The entire contents of our life were strewn around the living room. Our pictures, stationary, and journals were crushed. Chairs and floor were piled high with camping equipment, kayaking gear, and linens. We were not sure where to drop our bags because we could not walk through the house. Everything was covered in sawdust and plaster. Dirty footprints led the way to the bathroom. Our bed was piled high with clothing and there was used cat litter on the floor of our bedroom.
Where are the cats? I began to panic. We found them cowering under the bed, unkempt and frightened. Omega ran from me as I chased him around the house. I wondered if this was all a delusion brought on by lack of sleep. We spent two hours making a walkway through the house, unclogging the toilet, and clearing off the bed so that we could sleep. We slept from midnight to three a.m. and then woke up jet lagged and started looking for a new place to live. Later that morning when we confronted our landlord she was very apologetic. We told her that we were moving out, but would give six weeks' notice. She told us that she understood completely and respected that. "But, New Hampshire law requires you to pay rent for the duration of your lease" she smirked.
I was livid. Adam pleaded and tried to appeal to her sense of decency to no avail. I told her I supposed we were not leaving. We sulked back upstairs and got to work cleaning and reorganizing our belongings.
The next morning we had a strange text page from her stating that she had listed the apartment but was out of town. Could we show it for her today? I almost threw the phone through a window. I consider myself a rational person, but this sort of audacity is hard to swallow. Now I'm still cleaning, suffering from allergic rhinitis, and have not slept in two nights. All I can say is, reality bites.
