So my Knight decided he’d try to shed those last few pounds with a weekend climbing trip in Kentucky.
When I got “home” from work Saturday evening, I was met by 3 big beautiful t-bone steaks for dinner.
Side note: I say “home” because we have not yet found an apartment in the city. In a nutshell, we found an amazing (amazing as far as cookie-cutter Toronto apartments go) 8th floor, 1-bedroom apartment on Delisle at Yonge & St. Clair. Kind of pricey but it had a great balcony and a dishwasher. Dishwasher. Yes, a dishwasher. We were told we could move in early but when we arrived (after confirming over the phone twice), we were met by an apartment that had not been even cleared out since the previous tenants, let alone cleaned, painted, or fixed. Rather than pull my sleeves up for a fight, as I typically would do, we gave the keys back and said we’d be back on the 1st and expected everything to be done to the letter.
The first of the month landed on a Friday and so we arrived with our van and a borrowed truck packed to the tits with our things, ready to claim our bright, sunny, dishwasher-equipped apartment. Despite the superintendents being on duty, they were nowhere to be found. The head office was closed and a superintendent at their other location informed me that there was no possible way of contacting anyone above the superintendents. No phone number, no email address. After a few hours’ wait, we finally got through to our supers who said, “Uh, we had to go out.” And, of course, that the work had still not been done. After a nail-bitter of a weekend stressing over our deposit cheque, and an aggressively spent Monday morning refusing to leave the waiting room of the head office, we finally got our money back and walked away from Delisle Holdings, and their dishwasher.
My advice in terms of Toronto apartment rental: do not rent from a company that does not provide an email address for paper trail purposes. Also, if the superintendent cracks open a beer at 10:30am on a Tuesday and offers you one while you wait for your driver’s license to be scanned, BACK AWAY!
My Knight’s father decided we couldn’t enjoy steaks without eggs, so after my potential mother-in-law and I fried up some mushrooms, onions, and peppers, he worked his magic on the steaks, complete with fried eggs.