Landlords, Landladies, & the Freaks of America

So this morning I drove about 45 minutes to look at an apartment and when I arrived, the landlady informed me that the apartment had been taken. I guess she forgot that telephones exist? But no worries, because she has another two-bedroom available. Of course it is a shared space and the original tenant has no plans of sharing the kitchen, but I and my future roommate look like fellas who don't enjoy the culinary arts. She literally asked us, "Do you like to cook?" Regardless of my feelings about cooking, I have to do it to survive. Maybe I can just learn witchcraft, but there was also a no-cauldron clause in the rental agreement. No thanks, (land)lady! Maybe I've been spoiled by the privileges of being able to use a sink and a refrigerator, but I'm not about to start living an ascetic lifestyle just yet, unless copious amounts of women or spiritual enlightenment are available at the end of such a journey.

I have found so far in my life that most landlords are insane, or just stupid, but I started rethinking that this morning. I think that maybe the stressful situation of being a landlord exacerbates one's insanity. When I first moved to Maryland I was renting a room in a small house, with a guy who was extremely strange (but let me use his kitchen, at least). He was a day-trader, and a successful one at that, what with living in a house his parents had paid off almost thirty years ago, and renting two rooms to ne'er-do-wells and retired navy men. He was very religious, really into exercise, but also drank like a fish. I was only there for about three months, but the other bedroom was occupied by as many tenants. I'm sure the stress of his hectic renting situation influenced his hectic life, moreso than any mental instability may have. I think, if nothing else, I will try to give these land-owners the benefit of the doubt. I mean, it's not like the Magna Carta is making it any easier for them.