And anyway, I predict the next meteor to hit will be a monster

I walked down this afternoon to the City of Somerville's Department of Public Works. It is usefully about fifteen minutes from our apartment. I spoke with a health inspector; after hearing the entire story, he sent me upstairs to get a letter from the building inspector who came yesterday, whose recommendation our landlord is disregarding. He was in court, but the woman who was in the office listened to me and said that she would see to it that the city will send our landlord a letter instructing him to make the repairs as agreed or face bureaucracy. On paper. Not by handshake. Of which we will be sent a copy at the same time, for our own records.

(And then I went to Kelly's to get a Reuben for lunch, because I was finally present enough for my brain to agree with my body that it was starving and I hadn't been able to order one on Monday.)

I will wait on the letter, and I will wait on our landlord's response. But this feels much, much better than waiting for nothing, including phone calls.