A broken air conditioner and an ajumma in charge

My middle-aged, ajumma Korean landlord has more energy than the girls who promote sales at beauty shops in Myeongdong, bouncing up and down in knee socks and repeatedly shouting the same phrase into a microphone for hours on end. She is never in my building, so she comes to my school once every three months to collect my maintenance fee. Each time, she’ll bring me sweet bread from Paris Baguette and distribute church flyers to the entire office. For several months, the gym teacher used his flyer as a coaster. Summer was approaching in Seoul, and my air conditioner was leaking. My co-teacher helped me explain the situation to my landlord, as she doesn’t speak English and besides, “Aircon gojangnaseoyo,” (my air conditioner broke) I didn’t know what else to say. She stopped by later that evening to check it out. After skillfully kicking off her shoes, she scurried into my apartment, followed by a burly man wearing a tool belt. As he examined the water stains on my peeling wallpaper, she decided to look around. She motioned toward my refrigerator and asked if she could open it. “Sure,” I replied, fiddling with my necklace as she curiously analyzed the [...]