the curious incident of the Evil Landlord in the night-time

[freckles_and_doubt]

Since the damp, Cthulhoid, rotting-wall status of my bedroom is inducing lung-rot, I have been sleeping in the guest room for the last couple of months. This circumstance may, in retrospect, have something to do with the sharp rise in my bizarre sleep-walking behaviour - probably not unrelated to the fact that two out of the four guest-room walls are lined with books, and my vulnerable, sleeping brain is being warped by a combination of the seepage from all that pulp, and basic L-space.

Be that as it may, one of the many drawbacks of this relocation is that the Evil Landlord now sleeps on the other side of the wall, instead of at the other end of the house, and is thus peculiarly placed to ask me searching questions the next morning about my sleep-walking habits, since apparently he can hear me thundering around the room. This, however, works both ways. The other night was rendered particularly surreal by awakening sharply at about 2am to hear the not particularly dulcet tones of the Evil Landlord, raised sharply from the other side of the wall, in agitated litany, thus: "Fish! Fish! No, Fish! Fuck!"

I rolled over in bed, muzzily wondering if this was:
(a) Fish licking his ear;
(b) Fish landing heavily and unexpectedly on a tender portion of his anatomy; or
(c) Fish throwing up on his bed,
and, judging by the levels of anguish, plumping for (c). Then I went back to sleep.

(It was (c). O my prophetic soul, etc.)

I am immeasurably comforted and gratified by the outbreak of commiseration, consolation and constructive advice in the comments on my last post. Thank you, witterers all, I feel a lot better. The Usual Sunday Evening with the Usual Suspects (jo, stv, Friendly Psychologist) also helped a lot, especially since putting the three of them together on the sofa and liberally applying Long Island Iced Tea is productive of something perilously close to street theatre. I'm going to bed now. Maybe the room will stop spinning if I lie down.

Comments

[pinkthulhu.livejournal.com]

There's always
(d) Fish throwing up in his ear

All the best for the future, whatever it may be...

[extemporanea.livejournal.com]

OMG, that's a mental image horrible beyond even my small-hours, brain-dead conception. Actually, I think it was excluded at the time by the quality of horror in the utterance, which wasn't really off the scale enough to justify anything so grim.

Reading this back, I notice a certain ambiguity. I am, of course, talking about Fish throwing up in the Evil Landlord's ear, not my future, although I am willing to admit that there may be certain parallels easily observable to the naked eye.

[wolverine-nun.livejournal.com]

You might want to edit the entry to actually have an option (c), instead of two (b)s :)

Is anything being done (passive voice :) about the lung rot inducing bedroom/garage? Or is it going to be allowed to slowly sink into the peat and return to nature?
What with the ants behind the plaster, I'm thinking kind of Simak's City here. You need a robot.

[extemporanea.livejournal.com]

Eep! That'll teach me to post late at night after boozing with jo&stv. Either that, or the stress of alphabetising 100+ scripts is beginning to tell. My sense of the alphabet always disintegrates at the end of term. (Along with the rest of me). Have sorted, thank you.

The Evil Landlord is more or less planning to have a builder look at my room with a view to fungus-eradication and other assaults on its current resemblance to the House of Usher, a proceeding I suspect will entail a thoughtful pause and then that sharp intake of breath and long whistle which says that, in his professional opinion, this is going to be very, very expensive. However, EL has been unable to find a recommendation for a builder who is actually competent and not too expensive, suggesting that, basically, "competent builder" is a contradiction in terms. (The Army of Reconstruction who built the garage achieved an imposing edifice which leaked like a sieve the first time it rained).

Anyone know any good builders, or, at a pinch, builders with cherished first-born we can kidnap and threaten to expose to alternative music, atheism and liberal politics as retribution should the quality of the work slip?

[(Anonymous)]

It may be that the propaganda is sinking in, but I am increasingly convinced that in choosing any sort of handyman/artisan/construction personnel, one should seek a German. Or Swiss. They seem to still have some kind of pride in their trade and in Doing It Properly.

I don't actually *know* any, but based on this principle you might try asking at places like the German Club.

scroob

[extemporanea.livejournal.com]

Alternatively, I could call in the Evil Landlord's Seekrit German Connections. This would, incidentally, gratify him no end, since I think his German soul is deeply offended by slap-dash work. Now, if he hadn't inconsiderately gone off and acquired another job, the logical thing would be for him to spend his two months of vac time renovating my room. Bugger.