A Quick End To It
Apr. 4th, 2014 07:32 am![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
mousmeSo I saw a basement apartment that qualified more as "shithole" than apartment, while the landlord showed me around and waxed eloquent as though it was a three-star Michelin hotel rather than a shithole in the ground that I'd be sharing with three other people.
The bathroom was tiny, though that's not a deal breaker. The windows were not, I suspect, up to code. No way could I have climbed out of that in the event of fire, even if there hadn't been sheet metal blocking the bottom half of the window from the outside. The room itself was large enough, though the landlord's idea of providing a bed was to stack mattresses on the floor (why, WHY is this considered "furnished?") and shove a melamine desk into one corner of the room.
It smelled. It smelled really funky. Like mould and sweat and various unidentifiable miasmas.
The dealbreaker was that the kitchen was filthy. The landlord assured me and the other prospective tenant who was looking around that a cleaning lady came in once a month, but to look at it you wouldn't have been able to tell. There was stuff strewn everywhere--garbage, recycling, you name it. The floor was littered with debris, bits of food, bottle caps, scraps of packaging, and the edges of the floor by the wall were black with grime. The counters were wiped down but filled with clutter, mostly packaged food. There was a rice cooker by the sink that was half-full of congealing rice and that was so badly stained that you couldn't see through the glass top. I think most of what was on the glass lid was actually mildew. The fridge was about a hundred years old (okay, maybe more like 20-25), and was meant to be shared by all four occupants. I didn't dare to open it. The drip stains down the front and sides were enough to tell me what the contents must be like.
I fled in horror, needless to say.
When I got home, though, I was greeted by my landlords who were suddenly super anxious for me to stay. A little nudging and they might have launched into We've Got a Groovy Thing by Simon and Garfunkel. :P
Was I leaving only for financial considerations? Was it THEM? If it was them, they were SUPER SORRY. Was it the thing about the dishes? Because they didn't want me to get upset over that, the dishes were no big thing, and of course I could have a separate box for my mail so they wouldn't go into my room while I wasn't home!
They knocked $50 off my monthly rent, because they apparently really, really love me and really, really want me to stay. It's not going to solve my commute problem, but I know I won't find anywhere else to stay at that price, and at least the place is clean and pretty close to the highway.
So what I anticipated to be a month-long saga has come to a premature but not unwelcome close.
The bathroom was tiny, though that's not a deal breaker. The windows were not, I suspect, up to code. No way could I have climbed out of that in the event of fire, even if there hadn't been sheet metal blocking the bottom half of the window from the outside. The room itself was large enough, though the landlord's idea of providing a bed was to stack mattresses on the floor (why, WHY is this considered "furnished?") and shove a melamine desk into one corner of the room.
It smelled. It smelled really funky. Like mould and sweat and various unidentifiable miasmas.
The dealbreaker was that the kitchen was filthy. The landlord assured me and the other prospective tenant who was looking around that a cleaning lady came in once a month, but to look at it you wouldn't have been able to tell. There was stuff strewn everywhere--garbage, recycling, you name it. The floor was littered with debris, bits of food, bottle caps, scraps of packaging, and the edges of the floor by the wall were black with grime. The counters were wiped down but filled with clutter, mostly packaged food. There was a rice cooker by the sink that was half-full of congealing rice and that was so badly stained that you couldn't see through the glass top. I think most of what was on the glass lid was actually mildew. The fridge was about a hundred years old (okay, maybe more like 20-25), and was meant to be shared by all four occupants. I didn't dare to open it. The drip stains down the front and sides were enough to tell me what the contents must be like.
I fled in horror, needless to say.
When I got home, though, I was greeted by my landlords who were suddenly super anxious for me to stay. A little nudging and they might have launched into We've Got a Groovy Thing by Simon and Garfunkel. :P
Was I leaving only for financial considerations? Was it THEM? If it was them, they were SUPER SORRY. Was it the thing about the dishes? Because they didn't want me to get upset over that, the dishes were no big thing, and of course I could have a separate box for my mail so they wouldn't go into my room while I wasn't home!
They knocked $50 off my monthly rent, because they apparently really, really love me and really, really want me to stay. It's not going to solve my commute problem, but I know I won't find anywhere else to stay at that price, and at least the place is clean and pretty close to the highway.
So what I anticipated to be a month-long saga has come to a premature but not unwelcome close.
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no subject
Date: 2014-04-04 01:24 pm (UTC)Not as good as getting a $200 place two blocks down the street from work, but still a good step up from where you started.
no subject
Date: 2014-04-04 01:32 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2014-04-04 03:02 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2014-04-04 08:08 pm (UTC)I'm sure you could still keep a more casual eye out, just in case something comes up in the neighbourhood you want that's actually a good deal and not a shithole.