My Former, Crazy Landlord

About four years ago I was rooming with a friend in a part of town central to both the school I went to and the establishment where I worked. Soon after living together, the friendship began to teeter (I ain't easy to live with) and I was notified that once the lease was up my old pal would be moving on. I really, really liked the neighborhood, but staying in the apt. where I was was not an option. It was a two-bedroom, and the other apartments available for rent in the same complex were over-priced efficiencies that weren't big enough to house all my shit. So, I kept up my search for a new pad limited to within a few blocks. As it turns out, there was a one bedroom available for rent just one block up. I called the phone number on the flier and spoke with the manager who let me know she lived on property and to come by anytime. I don't like dealing with people and so I made my boyfriend come with. I met Her, who we'll call "Darlene," and although she was friendly enough her appearance was a little off-putting: sweat pants, ratty, over-sized tee shirt, flip-flops, and salt and pepper hair that looked as though it hadn't been washed in eight days. Whatever, I thought, I'm just here to see the apt. The place was underwhelming, but she was more than accommodating. "You can do this," she assured me, referring to minor renovations or changes in paint color, "you can do that...whatever! The place is quiet and everyone is friendly." Then we walked downstairs to see the pool and the laundry area. I told her this wasn't necessary, she insisted. On the way with my boyfriend and I in tow she farted. "?!" I looked at my boyfriend. He just smiled.
She asked me a series of questions about where I was currently living and working. I asked her about pets and deposits. She said the owner of the building had a strict NO PETS rule. I said that sucks. Then I had to get to work. I filled out no application. She would ask about the pets and I would check back with her tomorrow. Later that day, at work, she calls. I had only been working at my job for a couple of weeks at that point. No one who she spoke with knew who the hell I was or what dept. I worked in. But she was persistent. She found me. I got on the phone and she told me the place was mine "!" I had no idea why this news was so exciting. I hadn't won the lottery, just gotten the OK to move into a mediocre apt. I was like "umm. okay. I gotta go I'm at work." The next day there was a note on my windshield--more congrats and a request that I get in touch soon. I hadn't told her what kind of car I drive, only where I live. These events should have been enough to turn me off of the place: the sweatpants, the fart, the semi-stalking. Still, location, location, location.