Under the Lion’s Paw

So we’re moving April 1, although our lease ends June 31. That means that unless we find a new renter for our landlord, we’re stuck with two leases. Most sane and reasonable landlords will let you out of a lease with a one-month-rent penalty. Not these: they say we’re responsible for April, May, and June unless we find someone else. Also, that someone else must be willing to pay $150 more per month than we’re currently paying.

I think they’ll have a hard time finding someone to pay $1350 for a 500-square-foot 1BR facing College Ave, with no keys to the mailbox (you can jimmy it open with a paperclip, as M. does, although I never got the hang of it) and with paint and plaster falling off the damn ceiling in the bedroom and the linoleum in the kitchen peeling up from the damage caused by the sink’s periodic episodes of bulimia.

But we signed the lease. So we’re stuck with it. M. and I can handle this, and can find a new lessor, but they’re certainly not going to bother trying. But this reminds me of Under the Lion’s Paw, a story of economic exploitation and the origins of the sometimes-violent populism that shook this nation to its core back when people thought they had some kind of right to things.