Home, Sweet Home

I love my new landlord. He’s a stooped, elderly, nearsighted Chinese man whose eyes twinkle. While trying to determine a time to meet today to sign the lease, present him with a check, and transfer the keys, I suggested 5:30. He countered with 5:00, so I wouldn’t be walking in the dark. This immediately endeared me to him.

As I walked up the hill, he glanced at his watch, and with surprise, exclaimed, “Right on time!” I smiled and introduced myself. His adult son, who had shown me the apartment, stood a few feet behind him.

At first I wondered why the son was there also. I soon found out. My landlord is the Chinese version of Mr. Magoo. He read the lease to me, then pointed out where I should sign. Except it was where he should sign. As his son pointed out. He showed me the new refrigerator he had installed. Except he forgot to remove the packing materials from the inside. As his son pointed out. At great length, he explained the lock system on the door (push button lock and deadbolt), then proceeded to leave the apartment without utilizing either. As his son pointed out. But he was so good natured, even in his clumsiness, I couldn’t help but like him. Even when he forgot to actually give me the keys at the end of our meeting. As his son pointed out.