One Sunday evening, my elder child called to me from the shower, with apparent alarm, “Dad! It’s raining in here!” Since this was a ten-year-old and ten-year-olds are prone to goofy, physical humor, I mostly expected to find him in the shower under an umbrella, but lo and behold, the water was not running, he was toweling off, and there was a distinct sound of light rain on a tin roof coming from the bathroom ceiling.
$77 to install a meter when we are renting the damn place? Oh-ho! When I saw this the first time, I filled with a rage reserved only for this specific person, my landlord, my only enemy, who refers to himself always as “owner,” weed-wacks our vegetable garden, comes in our apartment while we are gone, and tries to illegally overcharge us for rent.