Adventures in Mexico

I recently left my mosquito ridden, gas smelling, bad plumbing having apartment and traded up. My new apartment is a fabulous fifties wonder that makes me feel like I should be serving highballs every night and hosting coctail parties and bridge nights. The landlord, a gentle middle aged woman who greets me warmly with cheek kisses and speaks slowly to accomodate my second langauge status, jokes that a gym is included because I have to climb five flights of stairs to get to my place. The place has a wall of windows looking out at the skyline (really a jumble of pollution stained 70s era apartment buildings), a balcony, a working toilet and best of all, the mosquitoes are too lazy or blood engorged to fly all the way up to my lofty heights!

Leaving the other (bad) apartment was no easy affair, however. When I delivered the news to my landlady, she acted as though I was breaking up with her. She hurled insults at me, accusing me of not being trustworthy, breaking the "golden" word, not being a "humanist," and generally let me know that I was a horrible person in every way. Also, despite the fact the we are not bound by any contract, she will "press charges" if I don't pay my $2.00 power and light bill. Quel turd!