August 8, 2009
If, when checking out an apartment, the artificial smell of new carpet hits you in the face like a dozen new car interiors, don't think your landlord is a doll for taking such good care of his tenants from the get-go. Instead, worry about what he's trying to hide beneath that the scratchy beige expanse. It may not be decrepit, buckled, water-stained linoleum left over from the Eisenhower administration. It may be what mine was: oak in perfect condition except for the blood splatters and chalk outlines of murdered cockroaches too numerous to count. Don't say I didn't warn you.