I am a creature of habit. Like clockwork I do laundry every Tuesday at 7:30 am.
“Are you a lawyer?” a woman’s voice asks.
I look up from tossing wet clothes into the dryer. It’s the Crazy Lady (Post 23) whose dogs terrorized me in the elevator. “Nope,” I reply. If I were, I should really be in court litigating not separating darks from whites.
“I need a lawyer,” Crazy Lady says. I need stuff, too. A man, a mortgage, a mini-me. Heck, why not toss in an Epi Louis Vuitton bag? And really, while we’re at it, I wouldn’t mind being a tall, slim super-model either. Okay, so some of that is more ‘want’ than ‘need’ ...
“I need to sue Albany,” she says. Against my better judgment I ask, “Why?” “I’m a substitute teacher and they fired me. Can you believe that?” This woman needed to brush her hair three days ago. Since I can smell her tuna fish breath from across the laundry room, her teeth, too. And her pants? I am fairly sure 1971 wants their bellbottoms back. While I don’t advocate home schooling, I would start rather than send my child to this wing nut. So OF COURSE I believe they fired her.
"Be careful," Crazy Lady says. "Of what?" I ask. "The Super. He doesn't like single women," she says. "What?" I ask. "My neighbor used to sell drugs and beat me up. Super did nothing. The Owner tried to kick me out. It's why I got the dogs.”
I don’t know what she is talking about. The Owner and the Super are nice to me. "They'll kick you out if they can find a better tenant,” she says. “Not until my lease expires,” I state. Doesn’t she know this is New York with tenants’ rights laws?
Just then the Super enters the laundry room and avoids her. Crazy Lady leers at me, laughs and leaves. “Stay away from her. She has animals and a dirty apartment,” the Super says. “And she’s crazy.”
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