The Crazy Lady (10/10/06)

While I'm on the topic of my old landlords (who, despite my previous post, were very good to me), I thought I'd share excerpts from the harrowing correspondence we had about the crazy lady who lived downstairs. They took our complaints seriously, working with me and the other tenants every step of the way. And when the crazy lady got worse instead of better, they served her with eviction papers. She was gone within the month. I know crazy people find me irresistible for some reason, but this lady was a doozy. How bad was she, you ask? Read on and find out!

9/5/06 I am frightened and very concerned by the violent outbursts and unprovoked verbal attacks I have heard and witnessed since moving to this building, all of which have come from the woman who lives downstairs ... the excessive noise and obscene rants continue all day and well into most nights. She screams and shouts some of the most vulgar words in the English language, and repeats the most offensive insults until she feels satisfied that she has gotten her point across, which often takes hours. I have never heard anyone yell back ... When she gets tired of talking to herself, she’ll lean out the front window and hurl threatening insults at passers by– it’s horrifying.

I did report her to the police earlier this summer– after seeing her try to pick a fight with a parked car then fumble with her keys for quite a while ... I probably should have called them on other occasions, like when she tried to throw the neighbor's grill away. It's chained to the deck, and she was so angry that she couldn't move it, she screamed "I’ll just burn it up then!", turned the propane on high, and left. The police have been called to the building two other times that I know of ... I was stopped and questioned by them once as I was coming home well after midnight ... this fact has only made her madder. She is very angry, violent, and seems quite altered; something needs to be done.

I have never in my life called 911 more than I did in that month and a half, and unlike the police who yelled at me when I found the dead guy, these officers were very courteous and tried on numerous occasions to reason with this woman. I felt bad that they had to call her ma'am! Her response (when she responded at all) was similar to the cat lady on The Simpsons-- she would wander out, scream incoherent gibberish, then wander away. Once she actually threw her cat out the window. I kid you not. She must have been remorseful the next day, as there was a pile of Meow Mix on the front walk. The cat came back, but (for its sake) I'm not sure that was a good thing.

9/30/06 I just wanted to send you a quick update on the situation with the woman downstairs. For a week or so around the time we last spoke, all was quiet down there. However, the shouting and crashing noises have started up again, but they do not occur as often, and have not reached the point where police intervention would be appropriate.

I, along with every other tenant on the Mozart side of the building, did receive a note of apology for her disturbing us, assuring us the problem "has been taken care of". I was touched by the gesture, but was jolted awake at 4:30 the very next morning by her ranting, and have been awakened in the middle of the night 3 or 4 times since then. I also believe she has cursed at me personally– once through her back door as I was taking out the trash, and another time out the front window as I was coming into the building– which I do not appreciate in the least. I just wanted to let you know that ... although some improvements have been made, the problem has definitely not "been taken care of".

I had met several of the other tenants by this time; we were united in our fear of the crazy lady. Once, when I was outside talking to the police, the guy from the top apartment on the other side of the building leaned out his window and yelled to the cop, "She's crazy, man!" in a show of solidarity. It was great.

10/10/06 I need to recant the optimistic assessment I made at the beginning of the month about the continuing saga with the woman downstairs. I was in my apartment on Sunday morning, quietly reading the paper when I heard her start cursing– she sounded closer and louder than usual. I quickly realized she was right outside my front door, calling me a "f***ing bitch, c*nt, and whore", saying that she’d "show me...", and concluded with "do you understand? GOOD!", slapped my door once, and left.

I heard her shouting again outside later in the day, and when it didn’t let up, I went to my window to see what was going on– she was standing on the sidewalk staring right up at my living room window, both middle fingers raised, and voicing her opinion of me for the whole block to hear. I have done nothing to provoke this woman, and have never even spoken to her directly. I did find a note on my door telling me to control my pets. There was something else written on the bottom of the paper, but it had been ripped off, as if she had thought twice about leaving anything so vile in writing. I do have a cat, but I can’t for the life of me imagine what type of complaint she would have against a four-pound kitten!

I later learned that she had been served eviction papers earlier that week. I began locking my kitten in my bedroom when I wasn't home because I seriously thought she was going to try and poison him, and tip-toed up and down the back steps for about a week. The night she moved out was the scariest of all; she wanted to leave us something to remember her by. By the time we called the police, she was practically foaming at the mouth. But once she had left, and I managed to catch up on all the sleep I had lost over the previous months, I actually began feeling sorry for the woman-- it must be hard to be so angry all the time. I just pray I don't run into her on the street someday; there's no telling what she would do!

Security Deposit Snafu

According to the City of Chicago's Residential Landlord and Tenant Ordinance Summary, "A landlord must return all security deposit and required interest, if any ... within 45 days from the date the tenant vacates the unit." Well, folks, I moved Memorial Day weekend ... here we are coming up on Labor day, and I just deposited the sizable check I had been waiting on all summer, or for 93 days to be exact. That's more than double the time frame imposed by the city, but I waited to play the "I'll report you to the city" card until I got desperate, which was about mid-August. A brief account of the (increasingly weird) correspondence between me and my former landlords went something like this:

Starting in early July...

me: Um, hi. I've been waiting on my security deposit for quite a while now and was wondering if you could tell me when I can expect to receive it?
them: That's weird. We mailed your check a couple of weeks ago. We'll put a stop payment on it and issue a new one right away.
me: Great, thanks!

A week passed, then another...

me: It's me again. I'm still waiting to get my deposit back.
them: Yeah, about that. Your first check was returned to us because of an invalid address. We need to verify your new address.
me: And you didn't call me why?
them: We figured you'd call us eventually.
me: [sighing] Nice.

The address gets verified, and the second check goes in the mail. Within days, an envelope arrives.

me: Woo hoo! [Then upon closer inspection] What the...? You've GOT to be kidding me! [Calling the landlords back] Um, hi. Me here. I got a check from you guys today...
them: Great!
me: but I can't cash it because it's a) not signed, and b) post-dated for September 2nd (it was the second week of August)
them: [stammering] Uhh ... the date must be a computer glitch, and I guess I just assumed that the landlord had signed all of the checks ... I didn't actually look before I sent them. Oops! Just shred that one and we'll send you another.
me: And when can I expect to receive that check?
them: Soon. Very soon.

Another 10 days pass...

me: This is getting ridiculous, folks. Can't I just swing by your office sometime and have the landlord sign this check? If it was valid, I'd be able to cash it in a few more days
them: Uh, well, we want to send you a new check.
me: No. I want to pick this up in person. Just tell me where your office is, and I'll come pick it up tomorrow.
them: [stammering again] I'm sorry, but I can't tell you that.
me: What!?! [Then, pulling out the big guns ... ] You guys have been good to me up until now, and I've been a model tenant for the past six years ... I'd hate to have to report you to the City ...
them: [nervously] I'll tell you what, why don't you meet one of our guys on the street corner tomorrow. It's outside one of our properties near you. He'll give you your check.
me: Um, okay... [then to myself] I'm starting to suspect that you guys might be affiliated with the mob or something.... Am I going to get whacked?

So I drive to the designated street corner the next day, mace in hand, not knowing what to expect. Thankfully, I recognize the guy who pulls up in a Mountain Dew-colored Mustang. He's a nice guy; a little greasy looking, but relatively harmless. I step tentatively out of my car when he approaches. He doesn't whack me; he waves instead. What a relief! I make him wait while I check the date and validity of the check, we make some small talk, and get back into our cars and drive away.

I don't know why the simplest tasks always wind up being such an ordeal for me, but at least this story has a happy ending. It was a long time coming, though!