More Landy bullshit.The Washing Machine Debacle.

Supercilious? I shall try to live up to it.

Having a nagging, nit picking land lady who lives directly above you is possibly like having a spouse you wish you didn’t have to speak to at all, one you married for the wrong reasons.

She was doing quite well for awhile. She’s said things that indicate she no longer completely blames me for the plumbing issues, and of late she has taken to calling me darling.  I did wonder how long this darling state could last. It turns out it lasts exactly as long as I keep my mouth completely shut and nod up and down like one of those toys on a car dashboard. To make comment, question anything or indicate that you understood something after hearing it repeated shrilly for the tenth time just won’t do. I love this place, but boy, her vibe really feels like a dark cloud of urine at times.

To her credit, she has let me use her washing machine sometimes (or it’s off to the Laundromat) but I should have known this would be fraught with issues. She came downstairs to check my power meter (and no doubt judge me for the mess in my place) and then the Washing Machine Debacle unfolded. About two weeks ago she accused me of spilling some washing powder on the floor of her wash house. Actually, it might not have been me, it could have been her boarder, but I took it like a man, right up the arse. I pretended to be intensely interested in how terrible it was that I’d spilled it. I apologised, agreed, nodded (repeat process about six to ten more times as she blathers on).  Don’t say anything I whisper inside my own head, just keep nodding.

At 10am I was in bed reading about ADHD when she knocked.  I was really tired after cleaning the yoga studio last night. I can’t seem to do it in less than two hours, or I probably could if I didn’t polish every stainless steel surface with mirror cleaner. God it looks good.

So this morning she launches into some problem regarding the filter in the washing machine, and I offer to come and have a look. I imagine this will take a minute as she’s already told me it’s a filter that needs to be emptied. Sure enough, she pulls it up and it’s chocka full of grit and the tummy fluff of monsters.

“When I use machine, I only empty this one once a year, but I go away, I come back after you use, and it like this.”

“Okay, so if I use the machine I’ll make sure I empty that each time.”

But no, this isn’t the point of it. I’m not allowed to make this logical conclusion and leave, I must LISTEN. Her voice gets increasingly shrill with every word, her eyes fix me like a dying fish.

“I go away, I come back, and it like this. I only empty once a year. But I come back and it like this.”
“Yes, yes …”

“SO,” over riding my agreement,

“What happen when I away in China visiting my mother and you use, and it break down, you take responsibility. You say ‘ohh no it not me’. I only empty once year, but I come back this week after away last week, and it full. Look. ”

Er, yes, I can see it and I’ve already agreed, apologised and nodded. So I say “Yes, so I need to empty the filter if I use the washing machine each time. It might be like that because I had to wash all the towels I used to mop up the water that comes out of my shower when it floods during heavy rain.”

“What?! You don’t use machine for this! You clean in here (indicates the wash house sink) not use machine!”

Her voice is becoming so shrill that I actually put my hands over my ears at this point; I can’t seem to help myself. So I sort of nod and wince and hope she’ll shut up really soon.

“Okay, okay, yes, I do understand, I need to empty the filter and not wash towels in there that I’ve used to mop up water.”

“Can-deee, I go away, I come back, and it like this after you use. I only empty once a year. I come back, it like THIS, so what happen I go away China and you use, and then it break down and you say ‘ooohhh it not me’? Will you take responsibility?”

The bit where she says ‘oooh, it not me’ is quite bitchy. I have noticed she has no female friends. All her friends are men in their sixties. Men who visit with flowers or plants for her garden. Men who do things for her. I’ve joked that she might be a high class hooker, but it’s looking like I might have nudged the truth there. Ongoing faithful clients.

“Are you saying that if the washing machine breaks down while you’re away that you want me to take responsibility for it?”

“Nooo, but I only empty once year, I go away, I come back, it like this …”

I felt really overwhelmed. I just couldn’t take another second of this bullshit.

“Look, I’m quite an intelligent woman. You told me what’s wrong, I can see that I need to empty the filter, I do understand, but I feel like you’re yelling at me.”

Her face suddenly hardened, a smile sweet as Hitler’s moustache complimenting her flat black eyes.

“You also say you are grown woman and I don’t need remind you about paper, but then you forget, forget, and it messy, it look bad!”

Oh for fuck’s sake.

“Forgetting to put out the paper rubbish isn’t hurting anyone though, and I remembered this week, so no problem.

“It okay, you not use washing machine. You go. It FINE.”

“So are you angry with me now?”

“Nooo (looking fucking angry in that calm way) I not angry, you make ME feel bad, and you say I shouting, so you go. You not use washing machine.”

“Oh, okay then.”

The Laundromat is looking really good.

Sadly, this put a shitty spin (ha) on my day, but looking on the bright side … the whiner is soon off to China for two months and her urine cloud aura won’t be hanging over my head. Hurrah!

Also, how upset can I be? I’m having a pretty good life. If all I can moan about is my control freak Landy, then that’s not too bad at all.

Post note: The following day she was on my porch yelling instructions at one of her men friends as he fed a hose into the drain that's causing all the problems with my shower overflowing. I was on the phone to mum, having a coffee and trying to eat some left over tiramisu from dinner with Rob and Suzanne. I popped my head out the door and when I saw her face, I clicked. Oh, I thought, she's just a really anxious woman. I went up to her and her face was soft. I said "I'm sorry if I hurt your feelings yesterday, I really don't mind using the laundromat." I mean, I did actually put my hands over my ears to block out her voice when she was talking. Not very nice is it? I hugged her, and honestly, she melted into the hug so easily, with great relief it seemed. She said "I just no want worry for me or for you when I gone China." She then waffled on about the cost of things, and the fact that she's had to ring the council about the sewage again this year (that one's the neighbours fault for putting tampons down the loo), but she probably just wants to be understood, and I was feeling patient. I went back inside to resume chatting with mum, and then the Landy came to my ranch slider and was talking at me with fast insistence. She could see I was on the phone, but I remembered the cultural differences. It was the same in Korea; things we consider extremely bad manners in the West seem to be fine in Asia. I said to mum I'd call her back, and then I ended up helping them with the hose pumpery; all sorts of old fat and crap came up.

Oh, I also offended some uptight actor guy in a review I did this week. It was quite a fun debate really, and his level of pompous was such as I had never before encountered. I tried to use a bit of humour when I retaliated, but he thought I was being supercilious. Oh wait a minute … he was looking in a mirror.

Supercilious:

Adjective:	Behaving or looking as though one thinks one is superior to others.
Synonyms:	haughty - arrogant - proud - lofty - uppish - snooty

Have a gorgeous weekend, chill out like a trout and make like a snake.

Also, I’m going to work on being supercilious, sounds like loads of fun.

xxx