For whatever reason, our room to sublet seems to attract a generous number of 50-70 year old male immigrants who can barely speak English, insist on haggling the price down and cannot for the life of them understand the concept that a roomshare does indeed imply living with roomates. Only yesterday, Ishmael, a somewhat surly fellow, telephoned...
Ishmael: Hello.
Me: Hello, who is this?
Ishmael: Call me Ishmael. ( Well no, he didn't really say that...but how great would that have been?!)
Me: Oh. Hi, you were interested in the apartment, right?
Long pause.
Ishmael: Yes.
Me: So, could you tell me a little bit about yourself?
Ishmael: I'm 73 years old. I am a boxing champion.
Me: Oh, well, that is impressive but I think my roommates would prefer to live with other students...
Ishmael: I am a student. A phd student.
Me: Oh, I see...
Ishmael: Can I come see apartment now?
Me: Well, why don't you talk to my roommate first...
Feeling rather selfish for keeping so delightful a conversation between myself and Ishmael, here is where I gave this somewhat suspicious character the home phone number, so that my roommate too could partake in the joy.
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love love love it
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