A FLAWgical Fallacy

The cum hoc ergo propter hoc logical fallacy can be expressed as follows:

1. A occurs in correlation with B.

1. Therefore, A causes B.

In slightly less dramatic language, "correlation does not imply causation".

And in plain language, my landlady is nuts.

A few months after moving in, she told me that she had "cleaned up the front porch". I smiled and nodded (generally the best way to avoid a conversation) and began to climb my steps. I spend little to no time on the front porch, nor does my child.

"I cleaned up all the gum that was there," she said to my retreating back. That's when I should have waved and kept climbing. I had less experience at that point, though, and I politely summoned a look of neighborly concern.

"Gum?"

"Yes. You and your daughter can't throw gum on the porch."

Now, we rarely chew gum. But when we do, we never sit on the front porch and gleefully toss the rubbery remnants thither and yon just to decorate.

To her: "I'm sorry you had to clean up gum, but I can assure you that neither I or my daughter put any gum on the front porch. We don't usually chew it; we don't usually sit on the porch, and we would certainly never discard gum there if we did either of those things."

"Well, I never found gum there before you moved in."

Of course. Then clearly it follows that we must be Pastafarians.

I also believe that fewer pirates = more global warming.

And speaking of shovelling

Anyone who has lived in an urban area with heavy snowfall knows the joy of finding a place to shove(l) it.

Back alleys? Mounds of snow against fences, ridges of ice chunks from the plows. Front yards? Mounds of snow in the yard, on the boulevards, beside the sidewalk. And it's not all pretty and white and fluffy, oh no. It's heavy, and dirty, and chunky, and icy, and full of sand and salt and the detriment of city streets.

Not my back alley, but you get the idea.

The landlady is - to put it gently - a bit particular about where the snow lands. I've been informed - multiple times - to only put "clean white snow" on the small grassy area beside the parking pad. Why? Well, the dirty snow hurts the grass roots.

Now, I can understand being a bit particular about the yard. Really. But there's NO OTHER PLACE to put the snow!

The alley - full. The side of the parking pad - 10 feet high and still climbing (in March!). The opposite side of the alley - also full.

I've gotten to the point where it's easier to just drive on the snow and pack it down, rather than trying to shovel it anywhere and face the wrath of putting it in the wrong place. Unfortunately, that meant that the last time the back alley was plowed, they scraped through inches of ice and left me with a "curb" to conquer. It was approximately a foot and a half high. (Side note: yes, I'm Canadian, and yes, I use metric. Mostly.)

So, I'm chipping away at the ice, trying to build a ramp out of it so I can park my car, and who comes out of the house, arms flailing? Uh huh.

"Don't put ANY of that on the grass!"

Lady, if I see grass anytime soon, I assure you I won't put snow on top of it.

Well, somebody shovelled it.

Oh, the pretty white fluffy snow - how I'm sick of it. And it's March. It's SPRING. But no, the snow keeps a'coming.

And the wind blows from below too. A transcript of last night's conversation:

Landlady: Whoever shovelled your snow put snow on my side of the sidewalk.
Me: I actually didn't get a chance to shovel today.
Landlady: Well, somebody did it.
Me: Um...
Landlady: Well? Was it a volunteer?
Me: Um...
Landlady: What are you going to do about it?
Me: Um... Well, I'm in PJs, and putting my daughter to bed. (Note: it's about 9:30 PM.)

Landlady: So?

Me: Well - I'll take a look at it in the morning, before I go to work.

Landlady: I don't like compacted snow. It gets slippery when it melts.

Me: Yes... well, I'll have a look in the morning then.

Landlady: You need to make sure you don't shovel your snow on my sidewalk.

Me: I didn't...

Landlady: Well SOMEBODY did! Who do you think it was? (She's yelling now.)

 

And this morning? I looked at her sidewalk. Which had clearly been covered with snow - that had blown and drifted there during the day.

 

I shovelled it. 'Twas the lesser of two evils.

Tales of a Venting Renter - Origins

Just about 2 years ago, I found myself in the uncomfortable position of having to find a place to rent in this fair city. An affordable (read: single income) place that was big enough for an adult, a child, a lot of theatre stuff, and three cats. In a city with a vacancy rate in the single digits.

I was lucky - kind of. I did find that place. It wasn't the prettiest, or in the best neighbourhood, but it was within budget, allowed cats, and I thought: Hey, this is meant to be!

Then came the landlady.

This blog is about the torments and tribulations of living over the person who holds the reins of your household existence. The person who can, with a single stroke of the pen, have you living on the street within 30 days.

And, seriously, I couldn't make this s**t up.