how i know my landlord controls my life

Tonight, I snuggled on my couch* under my green fleece blankets and turned my TV to NBC News to watch Obama’s first prime time address as president (my intense interest in the speech another curious sign of my aging). But below the floor, in the great, scary unknown (I think I could write an entire sitcom about my landlord and his family), my roommate and I could hear Obama speaking about three seconds ahead of NBC. The delay was maddening. So we flipped through the channels to see if we could sync the TVs — and then score! We found it. “Guess we’re watching ABC,” N. said.

*My couch has been my best friend (I have butt prints to prove it) for two weeks as I have fought a nasty mid-winter cold, including two, count ’em, two sick days. I might have to name it after such bonding.


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