Time to Get The Hell Out
Our apartment complex was bought by new owners. For the last five years Rita and I have been living happily in West Seattle, in a complex run by fairly nice people; nice location, reasonable--hell, cheap, even--rent, and quiet neighbors who don't induce either of us to jab lead pipes into our temples. Of course, this couldn't last. Earlier this year, the new owners (or as I like to affectionately dub them, the jackbooted fascists) took over the property. They're converting the south end of this thirty-building complex to condominiums. They'll likely do the same to the north end (our neck of the woods) within a year. To prepare for this eventuality (or maybe just because they're greedy jerks), they've pulled out a whole gallery of A#&hole Landlord Toy Surprises: Copious random apartment inspections with zero notification time, an attempted $200 rent hike with thirty days notice (a flagrant violation of Seattle landlord-tenant law), a chronic inability to ans