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

[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.