After my last impromptu hot-n-heavy meet-n-greet with my new landlord, *(check my post history),* I didn’t expect a second go with her. I assumed she had gotten her fill, and that would be it. But after six weeks or so had passed without so much as a peep from her end, I got a little in my head. I mean, I told myself it was fine, but if I’m being honest with myself, I’m used to getting at least some form of a follow up, so I spiraled a bit, wondering if I had under-performed that day. It hit especially hard when I thought about the potential reality wherein, she was celibate for four months, fucked me, and then RETURNED to celibacy. Fuck, am I trash in bed? Either way, I wasn’t going to be the one to re-initiate. BUT, I did have a problem with the unit.
Two lightbulbs in the cheap chandelier that hung from the ceiling near the entrance to the apartment had gone out, and when I stood on a chair from the kitchen and reached in to change them, I realized the bulbs were some sort of specialty bulb(?) and I had no idea where to get replacements. So, I did what any tenant would. I texted my landlord.