If we had a peephole, this never would have happened!

We call our landlord The Dude, and he's stopping by tomorrow. With him will be a handyman of his choosing, hopefully one who can fix the garbage disposal. Last time the guy who came to fix the dishwasher didn't know how.

Normally I like to be present when people come traipsing through my home. However, due to an unfortunate bathrobe incident last year, I'm perfectly willing to work a late shift tomorrow in order to avoid any further suggestive eyebrow quirking.

I should be doing the dishes, hiding the porn, vacuuming - you know, all the things you do before the landlord visits. Perhaps less common is cleaning off the shower walls which are covered in tub crayon writing. (what? you thought I was going to say something gross was on the shower walls? there probably is, but it's hiding under blue and green scribbles.)

I have received several lovely gifts in the past month, including said crayons, a digital recorder and a whiteboard. All of these are to encourage me in my writing. With nothing to distract me, shower time and bed time result in a flurry of ideas and notes and snippets of dialouge. The ever-growing pile of post-its and old receipts with chickenscratch can now be replaced. Of course I still have to actually put all these notes together; easier said then done.

Maybe I should leave a note on the whiteboard for The Dude and see if he replies.

"While you're here, maybe you could fix the leaking window you promised to in JANUARY."
"How many landlords does it take to set the timer for the carport lights?"
"Ever heard of a Nanny Cam?"
"Whatever you do, don't open the third drawer from the right!"