Monday, 28 January 2019

Raja



            Around midday on Friday my landlord called me. He asked, “How are you?” and he has never asked, “How are you?” in the twenty years that I’ve known him. I responded, “I’m okay, how are you?" and I've never given him such a greeting. So obviously something bad was about to happen. He said that he thought that I made a mistake when I paid the rent because I’d forgotten that there was a rent increase. I told him that I did not receive a proper rent increase. He asked what I meant. I told him to read it or have either his lawyer or his wife read it so they could explain it to him. He said, “Explain what? I gave you sixty days notice!” I said, “Read the notice. It says you have to give ninety days notice.” As I expected he began shouting and calling me an asshole. I told him to relax and follow the rules. "You wanna follow the rules? You wanna follow the rules? You fucking asshole!” and he hung up. The rent increase that he’d intended was about $13, which means that if he submits a proper ninety day notice before February 1 then my millionaire landlord will lose about $50. I live below the poverty line and lose a lot more than he does every year from his rent increases and yet when I receive a notice I do not start screaming and calling him names. I talk to a lawyer to find out if it’s legal and if it is then I pay the increase. A few years ago Raja got so stressed out that his stomach literally exploded. He’s a Hindu and so I would think that he must know people that can direct him to some yoga classes. I’m qualified myself but I doubt he would be willing to take instruction from me.
            I’d noticed recently that there wasn’t as much money in my account as usual and checked to see if I’d gotten my Toronto Housing Allowance for January. I hadn’t but had forgotten exactly when the deposit is supposed to be made. I checked my account and saw that the last deposit had been in the middle of December and so I suddenly got worried that this was another program that Doug Ford had cancelled. I called my worker but she didn’t even know that I’d been getting the subsidy. I called the Ministry of Housing and found out that it hasn’t been cancelled and that it is usually deposited on the 28th of every month. I checked my account a little further back and saw that my November deposit had been on the 28th and so I realized that the earlier December deposit was just a pre-Christmas courtesy.
            I didn’t go outside at all on Friday and spent a lot of the day working on my review of Shab-e She’r.
            In the evening I rubbed a pork shoulder roast with oregano, rosemary, olive oil, wine vinegar, lime zest, lime juice, garlic, salt and cumin and roasted it for two hours. I had a piece for dinner with a potato and two small carrots while watching an episode of Peter Gunn.
            This story starts with a murder on a movie set. The producer hires Gunn to find the killer. It turns out the guy who died was not even hired by the casting agency. Gunn goes to his trailer and talks with the attractive and flirtatious early middle-aged “interpretive” dancer who is in the process of painting herself for her act. In the end he figures out that the movie producer is a former hood that used the set to settle a score. There is a gunfight and of course Lieutenant Jacoby shows up to save the day. The producer dies.
            The trailer park landlady was played by Tracey Roberts, who became more successful as an acting coach and theatrical producer than as a film actor.



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