The House Rules of the 'Magic' Boarding House
A cantankerous landlord lists a set of bizarre, strict, and contradictory regulations for his boarders, from 'pulling off their boots' to a mysterious policy on nightmares.
The story, cleaned up
A cleaned-up reading of the newspaper page: spelling and layout repaired, one story lifted off a crowded page. It follows the original closely but it is not a transcription. The original page is below; read it if a detail matters.
During lately opened a boarding house, I have established these rules and regulations: This boarding house shall be considered effective for all moderate persons. Parties owing bills for over a week will be turned away. None but the brave deserve the fare. Boarders who do not wish to pay in advance are requested to go to the nearest hotel. Boarders are requested to wait on themselves. Sheets will be nightly changed once in six months, or if necessary. Double boarders can have two with a room in it, or two rooms with a bed in it, as they choose. Boarders are requested to pull off their boots before retiring if they can conveniently do so. Beds with or without bugs. All money and other valuables are to be left in care of the proprietor. The proprietor will be responsible for no other loss. Inside matters will be furnished for editor under any consultation. Housekeepers wishing to make their six months' visit will be welcomed; upon which they bring their household furniture, virtue will be a further attraction. Single men with their families will be boarded. Beds with or without birds. Dreams will not be charged for by the dozen. Nightmares will be charged extra. Strong vaults will be furnished to the boarding boarders; the proprietor will in no way be responsible for the bankruptcy or other failures of others.
“Sheets will be nightly changed once in six months, or if necessary.”
This tongue-in-cheek list of 'rules' from 1876 serves as a satire on the often-cramped and unpredictable living conditions of frontier Seattle. It echoes today's precarious housing market, where tenants often navigate absurd rental stipulations and the constant specter of displacement in an increasingly expensive city.
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