You may actually see a typo or two in this entry. The computer configuration has been changed yet again, as we are renting another new, flat-screen TV through which the computer runs now. In four years here, this is the sixth television in the room.
All these TVs were courtesy of my roommate, who has a thing for rent-to-own places. If history repeats itself, this new TV will also be gone by October and he'll be left grappling for another portable one to take its place - simply because he cannot afford the payments. I do not attempt to help or intervene because: 1. He makes the decisions on them, and 2. I am happy with my bedroom television and do not feel the need to change it with the seasons.
Cosmetically, the living room is undergoing a metamorhposis. Infrastructure-wise, it remains the same: slowly deteriorating.
I've rented the last three places I've stayed, but this seems to be the first one that doesn't require strict inspections every few years. In Lincoln Park, I remember being upset at the inspector for intentionally finding defects that neither me nor my ex-girlfriend remember seeing. Hairline cracks in the basement cinder blocks are going to void the house? But, come to think of it, the house didn't match any other one on the block, and perhaps the city wanted to demolish the house to improve neighborhood character. I moved out later, so I improved my character.
The next residence only lasted eight months, until I was told of the place we're at now. But in one inspection, you'd think a billboard screaming "quarantine" would have been placed there. Honestly, he didn't take care of the place and the city was on him about it.
In ways, we're lucky to have an absentee landlord situation. If he stays away to give us space, that's fine... but since it's his house, wouldn't he be interested in finding out its condition? Not under pressure by the city to prep the house for inspection, some things are spiraling out of control.
The front porch, for instance. Now here's some cinder block gone to pot. Everything to the right of the porch step has disintegrated just since we moved in. He's been told twice about the porch, and claims he'll get back to it. Hasn't happened yet. Central air was promised two years ago and, to this day, remains half-installed. The backyard water spigot is fed by a PVC water hose. PVC and no copper? Shake your head with me. I'm on my third different pipe in four years and it's already springing holes. And don't even ask me about the purple walls in the living room (I'm sorry, I guess it's called lavender).
I don't do anything to the house myself, simply because it's not my own. I leave it to the owner, but you wouldn't think anyone owns this house, since he's never around. He does say he seldom stops by, because we take such good care of the house, he doesn't have to worry about us.
But infrastructure maintenance is a must. At this rate, the house will slowly turn into a scene from inner Detroit.
