You know the best part about our fight with the landlady? Since she desperately wants us out, we’ll be able to break our lease anytime we want. (Normally in Quebec you need special permission from the landlord to end your lease on anything other than its anniversary, thus helping ensure that most people in this province move on the same day!) And even better, whenever we do want to move, we’ll tell her we’ll clear out — on the condition that she gives us a good reference for the next landlord! I love it.
Dealing with such an unsavory character as our landlady gave Sh. and me a strong bias against all other things as Italian as her, as ridiculous as that was. It was a fine example of how racism can function that at points during our bitter dispute, when all else had failed, we sometimes let off steam after speaking with her by making fun of her accent in order to regain some feeling of power over her. We’ve managed to get over this now, I’m happy to report, and can once again shop at the corner Italian food market without thinking of our landlady and shuddering. In fact, I’m preparing a tiramisù for tonight to celebrate (dead easy and very tasty, a winning combination). We really do have nothing against Italians and their culture. And besides, these are just desserts.