What's That On The Fan?

Welcome to the Dungeon

Well, as I called it on Friday, the poo has hit the fan, my friends. After my roommate/landlord texted, freaking out about my friend (now boyfriend, eek! Commitment issues everywhere) spending the night, he came over to let me watch Harry Potter. Within the first fifteen minutes, landlord's son (he's 30+ years old) comes downstairs and calls out, "It's time for company to leave."

"Thanks, but we're watching a movie."

"No, I think it's time for him to go, didn't you get my mom's text?"

"I did, and we're watching a movie. Night." (I'm so passive aggressive.)

Well, he goes back upstairs, and Damien and I continue watching the movie. And he falls asleep. Rather than waking him up and kicking him out, I let him sleep.

In the morning my alarm beeps, and I climb the stairs. Baxter, who opens the door with his face, smashed into the closed door. It didn't open. I patted him, pushed him to the side, and twisted the knob.

Terrifying, isn't it?
Worst part, when I moved in and saw it, I had a mini panic attack.
I should trust those instincts more often.

It still didn't open. They'd locked us in the basement. So I start yelling until the landlord's son opens the door, where another fight ensues. I let Baxter out, and managed to lose my car keys so Damien gave me a ride to my eye appointment. When we came back, the landlord's son blocked the entrance and was all, "You can leave now." (He is NOT a small man by any means. His entire body took up the door, so there was no way to get through.)

Now, a few days later, I'm still livid about the entire situation. If a fire had started, the three of us would be dead. The 'second' entrance is currently barricaded with the landlord's crap for 'winter'. There would have been no quick way out. Secondly, I pay to live there. Which means if I want to have friends over, who aren't doing anything, I get to have friends over. I'm not a sister/cousin/relative. It is NOT okay to EVER, EVER, EVER lock someone in the basement. (Unless you're seven and they cheat at tag. Then it's okay.) Thirdly, her little niece that got screamed at by her little boyfriend is a pot head, and yet it's okay for them to come whenever they want, without giving me notice so when they come creeping in at midnight I think I'm going to get murdered.

The so called "emergency" exit

So once again, I'm back to the apartment/house hunt grind. Wish me luck.

To end this on an uplifting note here's a song lyric that keeps me going in these situations:

"All I need is the air I breathe, and a place to rest my head" ~One Republic