It's October 1st and we're officially moved completely into our new place. I didn't want to tell the story until we had handed in the keys for a reason. Here's the story:
Our neighbor, let's call him SD*, filed a complaint about Tom's smoking probably within six weeks of moving in. Tom was on the deck smoking at this time; our whole point of getting a deck/terrace/whatever was so that he didn't have to go outside in the weather to have a cigarette**. We realize we're new and we should try to keep the peace. I'm that kind of person.
Tom moves his smoking area downstairs and outside. Away from SD's windows.
SD complains again. He can still smell the smoke. So, Tom moves again. This time out near the parking lots, far away from SD.
This time, SD and another neighbor complains about the smoke. They say they can smell the smoke from the parking lot. I swear, SD must me Steve Austin*** at this point.
But then I realize, as I'm sitting on the deck one day that I smell cigarette smoke and Tom is asleep on the couch inside. What the...? I lean over the railing and voila! The home health aid downstairs**** is sitting on their patio smoking. Well now, there's our problem. They are confusing the smoke! No wonder... Next time we get a complaint (which at this point I had NO delusions that we wouldn't) I would explain the mix up and all would be right in the world.
I'll mention here that Tom's health started to decline a bit more with each complaint. He was becoming more and more paranoid, and really can you blame him? He couldn't step out of the house without someone watching him? Not cool man, not cool. We're working on that with the doctors. So...
Tra-la-la-la-la.
I walk in about six weeks ago and Tom hands me a letter. You know what it is: our neighbors have been complaining about his smoking. They can't open their windows because of his smoking.
They are complaining about butts in the mulch.
And now they are complaining that he's coughing.
IN THE HOUSE.
In the f*ing house.
Yes my friends, we are not allowed to cough in the house now. They said that it's all the time, all day and night. Which it's not. It's after he has a cigarette and on occasion randomly (much more like a serious throat clearing than a cough at that point).
He is, of course, steamed. Royally. He's already left the deck because of complaint number one. He's moved his smoking mainly to the parking lot on the request of another neighbor. Even that's not enough. And now they are complaining about his coughing IN THE HOUSE. Are you f*ing kidding me.
I take the letter and tell Tom to stay put. He's liable to rip someone's head off if I let him handle it. That's not to say that I'm not ready to remove major body parts through small orifices, but I have a better track record of staying calm.
I walk over to the office and the first question that I ask is "Where can he smoke?" She totally dodges the question and starts in with some existential bullcrap. I interrupted her and said, "Ok, you didn't answer the question. Where can he smoke?" She points to the park and then to the woods behind the buildings. "Either of those are fine." Well no they're not because the park is closed from dusk to dawn, and since we're under a drought warning, the woods are a really bad idea. Kidding me?
I also pointed out that the downstairs caretakers from the Woods Services (Mental Institute for low functioning people) smoke outside all the time. Her answer? "Oh they've been here for years."
I'm getting a feel for how this is going to fall out.
I mention the cigarette butts in the mulch and before she can say a thing, I hold up finger to hush her. "This is a flat out lie. There are no butts in the mulch. I watched 60 apartment units burn to the ground for lack of a proper disposal system. There is a container in front of our door for just that reason. So whomever told you that is lying." She wanted to say something, but I repeated, "Lying."
So, then we get into the coughing. I said, "What exactly do you expect me to do about that? It's a biological function that was exacerbated by his bacterial pneumonia. I can't make him stop coughing."
"Isn't there a medication he can take?"
"No, this isn't that kind of cough. It's from his lungs."
"Why isn't he here?"
I thought to myself, because I don't want to have to visit him in jail. I answered, "He's at home in a Xanax induced sleep because this letter" *wave wave wave* "got him that upset."
So we banter back and forth another minute and I can tell she completely thinks that I'm going to tell him to just stop coughing. Or that I would be embarrassed by his coughing. She said something about the neighbors having the right to personal peace (or some other such made up term) and that his coughing was disturbing them. I repeated, he can't help it. It's a cough. What it was an elderly person with emphysema? How can you complain about coughing-- I know how bad it is. I sleep in the same room with him.
"How can you stand the coughing? how do you sleep through it?"
"Because he doesn't cough all the time. And don't you think I want him to stop coughing? Don't you think I worry about his health?"
"How do you sleep with him?"
Holy blank evil stare, Batman. What went through my head: Did you just question how I can sleep in the same room with my own husband? He's my husband you dumb _____. How do you think I do it? I close my eyes and fall asleep. He doesn't cough all night. What I said: "I just do."
"So what are we going to do about this? I can't have this because I'm going to have mass exodus of residents."
I stared at her a good long minute. "Well, I can see that there is no hope for a middle ground. I propose this: release us from the lease with NO fees, and I mean no fees, and return our deposit, and we'll move out within two months."
Not even a heartbeat's hesitation later, she answers me, "I can't call the main office right now, they're closed. I can get back to you tomorrow."
"Fine. But there can be NO lease break fees at all and the deposit must be returned to us."
And so, we wound up waiting the weekend to find out if we were going to be released from the lease. We spent the weekend looking at other places to live, and Tuesday morning we got the JOYOUS news that we were. By Thursday, we had a signed a lease for a new place.
And no one has complained about him coughing in our house.
_____________________________
*SD= Short D*ck. Dude rents an apartment and leases a BMW. Hello, inadequacy. And the woman he's seeing? Yeah. I think she puts her hair on each morning. IT'S NOT THE 80'S. Put down the Aquanet and step away from the curling iron.
**I realize that cigarettes are frowned upon. But if you've been following our saga, you'll understand why I've chosen not to directly attack this vice. Yet.
***Six Million Dollar Man? Yeah, go google it if you don't know.
****There were a few apartments rented by a local continuing behavioral/mentally-challenged private school for the former students who can't legally stay on the property anymore.
