“Raise my rent and take off all your clothes!”
- Tom Waits, “Pasties and a G-String”
No. What? No, don’t—look—look, please. Let’s just all slow down. OK? OK? Look, this isn’t the apartment in Spokane. You know? This isn’t the two-bedroom, two-bath apartment that you split with a roommate for a total of $450 a month because it happened to be a half-basement apartment, and was across the street from what was probably a meth lab because there was a small trailer in the backyard that you watched the people who panhandled outside the Safeway walk out of and had ladders going up to second-floor windows, and once a homeless guy kept knocking on your door asking you to open cans of food for him until finally you just gave him the can opener. This is a different apartment. That was a good one, though, right? With the college-boy fridge embedded in the cabinets in the living room, and the location was good, close to the campus and all the bars your friends still went to. That was nice, but you’ve moved. Different town, different idea of what “good” rent is. So yes, we have a good price for our place. But we pay enough. We’ll be quiet next time.