Tuesday, March 2, 2010


I've never wanted to be a landlady, but it seems that I am one. (At least two of my tenants are my sons.) (That sounds as if perhaps more of my tenants might be my sons also but that's not what I meant.) (I only have two sons.) But to get on with this story, last May, right after the home-invasion robbery/burglary, some friends of my son R. asked if they could crash at the house for a little while because they were between apartments. As we were all of us in a daze, I said yes -- they seemed like nice kids -- but the "little while" turned into six months, when both my sons insisted that they move out because of their slovenly habits. I thought: how bad can it be? (Note: I don't live in this house.)

Well.....today I found out. N. had been telling me that these tenants left quite a pile of crap behind, and that he'd been down in the basement cleaning it up in 15 minute increments. Fifteen minutes! What is wrong with my son? --I wondered.

Oh. My. God. When I finally viewed the tenants' remains (sounds like they're dead, doesn't it?), I had to remind myself that this is after N. cleaned up, repeatedly. I've never experienced anything like it: parts, pieces of unmentionable things. Tissue things. Old food. Soiled dishes, cutlery. Sex toys. Sex toys! I'm no prude, but for god's sake, put 'em away when you're finished! And pack 'em up when you move! The candy/candy-wrappers, empty pop cans, general paper-waste -- though ankle-deep, were innocuous in an oddly refreshing way in comparison with the, uh, other "treasures."

Yikes. We loaded up R.'s car with plastic sackfuls of garbage. Swept and swept and swept. Thankfully, I had my gardening gloves in the car. We opened windows and turned on fans. After about an hour, N. said "I'm done! Can't do anymore!" R. and I agreed. Enough is enough.

Next time I'm there I'll bring out the spray bottle of bleach solution and kill every single remaining bastard bacteria that lingers. But at least, now, the debris is gone.

It's time for that glass of wine. Or two. Or three.


  1. Yuk... All I can send is my sympathy. Other, of course, than your son learns one of the world's most powerful (and least used) words; NO.

    Best wishes, Cro.

  2. My own recent unfortunate experience with a room mate lets me identify too well! I am mostly amazed at how some people feel either utter apathy or some kind of superioroity that enables them to trash other people's stuff. AND, adding insult to injury the fact that you then have to find time to deal not only with cleaning after they leave but finding somewhere to put all the CRAP they left behind...

  3. Cro, nice of you to stop by and comment!

    Linsey, alas, sorry you've also had to deal with this. I will say, though, that in spite of all the nasty garbage yesterday, my sons and I engaged in some wicked laughter.

  4. Oh T., only now I read about what happened to your family last May. How absolutely traumatic. I'm terrible sorry and hope N. and R. are okay again.
    And now -- well, leaves me quite speechless. Good that you had such an energy booster on Hawaii -- hope you recovered by now, enjoyed your vino &c. all the more, and that the boys learnt their lesson. Mel and you will have lots to tell each other when starting over again...
    Sunny days,

  5. Eva, thanks. Time somehow manages to fade the horror, and I am thankful for that.

    I'm going in to work today -- it's story time at Melinda's!

  6. how cruel and thoughtless of these people, er, PIGS. Thanks for lettin' us crash here, we're really grateful. Now, clean up our bio hazard detritus.

    Ugh. Oh, the power of "NO."

  7. Can you send a bill to these slobs? With a letter from your lawyer?