The Third-World side

Fuck. I got home late last night, went pee, tried to flush and found that the water was off. It’s happened in the past, mostly it was old pipes breaking and the problem was solved within the day. This time, though, my neighbor had this horribly worried look on her face.

From what I got out of her bad English and my bad Spanish, our landlord hasn’t been paying the water bill. Apparently, he hasn’t paid the water bill for the last 10 years. To make matters worse, he was recently a kidnapping victim (yet another of Tijuana’s seemingly unsolvable problems), which means he changed his phone numbers and moved. We really have no idea where he is. My only point of contact is with the landlord’s son, who actually owns the building I live in. He lives in Europe, so I’m not sure he’ll be able to handle it. I know for sure he won’t be able to handle it in a timely manner.

Which brings me to a kind of state of emergency. I have to find a home, stat.

About Kinsee Morlan

Arts and web editor at San Diego CityBeat. Interested in art and the Tijuana/San Diego border.
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