Monday, December 04, 2006

Nando's Back!

As expected, my Italian, ex-housemate, Nando, moved in on Saturday. So, he's no longer an ex-housemate, but is, once again, a current housemate. Nando and I lived in the same house for three years. Then, in March of this year, my old landlord, who's a despicable man, gave me notice to leave. He didn't give Nando notice, but I suggested that Nando move out, too, and that we get a two bedroom flat or house to share. Where we had been living, we shared with a third person, although the bulk of the last year there, it was just the two of us. Nando agreed, but didn't give the landlord notice. He said he wanted to find somewhere, first. It took us two weeks to find a place we liked. By then, I had two weeks to move out. Nando wanted to just give his notice, then. This would leave Nando unable to move into the new place until two weeks after me. So, I gave up and found a room in a shared house, on my own.
Nando thought he would be able to stay at our old place for a few months. As soon as I was out, the landlord gave him notice to move, too. Why the bloody landlord didn't just give us both notice at the same time, I don't know, unless he was deliberately trying to keep me and Nando from being able to stay together. I don't see why he would care, though. Nando had been afraid to give notice until he found a place. He was worried that if he gave a month notice and didn't find a place by the end of that month, he'd have nowhere to live. Because he tried to play it safe, we were split up. I moved to the house I am in now and Nando moved somewhere else.
A couple of months went by and one of the guys at my new house does a runner. He moved out one day, without any notice, owing the landlord money. I called Nando, but he was settled into a new place by then. My landlord got a new tenant, who turned out to be M1. A couple of more months go by and Nando tells me he's not happy where he's living. He says he'd like to find a new place by the end of October. I told my landlord to let me know if one of the other tenants is moving out. Then, towards the end of October, I hear that S1 is moving out. I called Nando and he still hadn't found a new place, so I put the deal together and the rest is history.
On Friday night, the Exotic Flower asked me what Nando was like. I told her he's a racist. He's prejudiced against Blacks, Jews, Arabs, and gays, for a start. She looked at me with those babydoll eyes of hers and asked, "what's he think of Spanish people?" Her mother is from Spain, so that's why she asked.
"I really don't know," I confessed. I don't remember discussing Spanish people with him, before. Despite being a racist, Nando's a very nice person to live with. He doesn't cause trouble, doesn't steal your stuff, does his share of the cleaning, and pays a share of the Sky bill. He doesn't go out much, so he spends evenings at home, mostly, giving me someone to watch TV with.
The Flower looked at me and said, "I'm not white." I looked back at her with a puzzled expression. What does she want me to do about that?
On Saturday night, Nando was down watching TV in the lounge, with M1, the Flower, and myself. This was our first time all together. The Flower had "X Factor" on, which she likes a lot, and was switching to "Strictly Come Dancing," during the commercial breaks. As usual, she sat next to me and talked. Somehow, the Flower started telling me how she liked Selena, the Mexican-American singer. I looked at the Flower with my best matter-of-fact expression and said, "she's dead."
"Oh, you're so mean," the Flower said, with exasperation. "That's a mean thing to say." I couldn't contain myself any longer and burst out laughing. I looked at Nando and he was laughing too. That's the thing about Nando, he can appreciate humor.
Latter, when we were alone, Nando asked me, "when that Selena die?"
"About ten years ago," I responded.
"I could see her getting upset if Selena die yesterday," he reasoned, referring to the Flower's earlier outburst. "But she die years ago. Time to get over it, now." We both laughed some more, at the Flower's expense. We are back together again, like Batman and Robin. Or like the Green Hornet and Kato, or the Lone Ranger and Tonto, or the Cisco Kid and Pancho, or Butch Cassidy and the Sundance Kid, or Ricochet Rabbit and Droopalong. We're like Nick Nolte and Eddie Murphy, in "48 Hours." The boys are back in town.


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