It all started with good intentions. Many years before we reunited, Todd offered to rent out his garage apartment to a friend looking for a place to live. Shortly thereafter, he asked Todd if his girlfriend could move in. Todd reluctantly agreed. The lease agreement stated the usual details, and included ONE small dog.
Fast forward 8 years. Todd - after having rented the house out as well for a couple of years (another post for another day) - finally reclaimed his home and the kids and I moved in too. The tenants in the apartment, meanwhile, had taken over our garage. Girlfriend apparently breeds these little dogs, and so by the time we moved back she was keeping at least 2 of them in the garage. They were corralled within a pen but free to roam and defecate within it. Todd was pissed. I was beyond pissed. The entire garage stank of urine and feces, and these poor little dogs never saw the light of day. There was much arguing about it, but I wrote a letter stating quality of life and humane violations, and that was that. The dogs were moved upstairs to the apartment. But, clearly, these animals were NOT house trained.
We had been planning to take back the apartment too, knowing full well the conditions within were abhorrent, but were considering the timing of this event. Over the winter, they were running space heaters in every room and the electric bill soared up to nearly $500 a month. That's nearly two times the cost of ours, for a space that is roughly one-quarter the size. And here's mistake number #$%* - never, ever, include utilities in a rental.
SO many repairs need to be done. Girlfriend was a hoarder and so their apartment was always piled high with "stuff," the windows and sliding glass doors covered so that no one could see inside. Todd had been inside a handful of times over the last several years - they made every excuse to keep him out. So, the necessary repairs could only be guesstimated.
When we finally got to move back into the house nearly 2 years ago, there was an old pickup in the driveway that didn't run. There were dozens of "plants" (well - let's just call them pots with dirt in them, some with dried up plants) covering almost half the length of our driveway and even ON the truck. Apparently Girlfriend hoards dead plants too. Is that a thing? I didn't know that was a thing.
The truck went away shortly before we moved in. I asked Todd to please ask her to move the "plants" off the driveway. He did. Multiple times. She didn't. So one morning after the kids left for school and no one was home in the apartment, I got fed up with being pissed off and started moving nearly 50 pots and other "shit" neatly off to the side of the driveway. I took a picture of my victory and sent it to Todd, but sadly had forgotten to take a "before" photo to share now. Girlfriend actually had the gall to say thank Todd for moving it all for her (because she had just been "so busy"). (By the way, if "busy" is hiding inside your apartment doing lord knows what most of the time, then I'm busier than a diner waitress on a Saturday morning.)
It should be noted that some of the plants/pots returned like a bad herpes infection to the space around their door the following spring. Now, it wouldn't have been so bad had the plants actually had some color on them.... like green. She had other "stuff" that surely looked like garbage to me, but it must have had some value. My patience for this hit a wall after I arranged a Green Drop pickup for several bags of usable items and clothing I was donating, and the driver came - saw only her shit and left ME a note stating that none of my donations were acceptable. There isn't a word strong enough to describe how angry I was. And mostly because they mistook her garbage for my donation.
So while we hmmmmmed and hawed about when we could get them out of there, we got a letter from the guy that they would be moving out in 30 days. Finally, the day had come. Todd had been in the apartment a month or so before, once to install a new water heater (the old one broke down and was leaking water that had come through their floor and our ceiling in the basement) - which was obviously an emergency and so no one had time to clean up the apocalypse which was their apartment. The second time was to repair their range. Todd reported back to me that the smell was atrocious, and there was shit (both real shit and "stuff" shit) everywhere. Not much walking room. Clearly there was a reason they never wanted anything repaired, serviced, or otherwise gazed upon.
In the kitchen was a small plastic kiddie pool, in which Girlfriend had placed kitty litter and where these (by this time FIVE) little dogs supposedly did their business. Worse yet, when she cleaned up their litter, she just dumped it in our trash containers outside. Once I finally realized what the sludge was that was running down the front of one of them, I informed her that it has to be in a BAG (really, how can one reach 60 without some basic common sense?).
And so here we are today. They have moved out, and I got my first look at what this apartment looked like. And truth be told - it's really cute. I'd have jumped on it as a first apartment in my early 20s (assuming it didn't smell like this). They referred Girlfriend's nephew to us as a potential renter for the space and I looked at Todd and said, what, are you KIDDING me???! I'm sure he's a nice guy, and surely hoarding animals isn't a genetic thing, right? However, we are so NOT renting again.
The damages are continually being assessed as we determine what, if anything can be salvaged. Cause, you see, that kind of smell permeates EVERYTHING. Including the cable boxes and the power cords that went with them (yes, I smelled them - so sue me).
Our newest adventure begins here.
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