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14 July 2007 @ 01:03 am
"the cheapest motherfuckers on the face of the planet"  
thescottishguy was telling us about how cheap his new landlords are and I thought I would solicit evil landlord stories. How cheap was your landlord or landlady? What was your worst rental experience? How bad was the state of repair in your apartment? Were you driven to the edge of homicide?

Or...how many cockroaches does it take to screw in a light bulb?
Mari Adkins: dork in a bonnetmariadkins on July 14th, 2007 03:29 pm (UTC)



You sure you want to get me started?? :cries:

I absolutely (long string of expletives) *abhor* the apartment we're living in. Don't get me wrong. I like the complex and its general location; that's two of the reasons which drew us here in the first place. But when we moved in in April 2005 into #26, we moved into a beautiful, fully refurbished apartment. Fresh paint, new vinyl on the floors, new carpet, brand new natural wood (beautiful beautiful) cabinets in the kitchen and bathroom, brand new appliances in the kitchen. It was clean, easily taken care of. On the first floor. The front door opened onto a carpeted, enclosed hallway. We had a balcony. The rear of the apartment was like sitting up in a treehouse - the building is on a gorgeous tree-covered hill.

We were happy there.

Then in March 2006, a woman and her daughter moved in upstairs. The mother worked third shift and the daughter supposedly went to day classes at UK. In May 2006 is when the real issues started and began to get increasingly worse. By late July, I was threatening to pack a bag and go stay with Preston's mother until something happened. Looking back, I wish that's the course I'd taken, but when ones nerves and emotions are shot all to hell, one doesn't usually think properly. Now, from March 2005 until April 2006, I had really bad insomnia. I bet I slept a grand total of 3 or 4 hours a a week in that time period. I think by the time that April rolled around, my mind and body were so tired that I pretty much just fell over from sheer exhaustion.

Now, before I go any further, I want to say that the neighbor we moved in beneath in 2005 was a gem. It was a single mother and her small child. We never figured out if it was a little boy or a little girl, but I've always leaned toward "boy". Said child was maybe two when we moved in. Maybe. Now, despite this, we never heard this mother and child. Never. And anyone who's ever been around toddlers knows how much noise they make, how they like to run and jump. We never heard this child. We never heard our neighbors across the hall, either; and the only wall we shared with them was the short living room wall (about ten feet).

In June of last year, our complex was bought out by a private owner. Retired man in his fifties who was looking for a "hobby" to keep himself busy. He moved here from Cleveland, even; and he lived in the complex for a while until he could find a house to buy.

Well, the noise from upstairs that Summer.

Come to find out, what sounded like furniture falling over at 2 and 3 and 4 in the morning was the girl's boyfriend beating the holy snot out of her. The noise coming from the apartment during the day - it sounded like two kids jumping up and down on the bed honestly - we never really did figure out. And the rest was really, really loud music pretty much around the clock.

Thing is, our police department and their policies suck raw donkey ass (pardon me). And the apartment complex refused to do anything about this noise without a police statement (old and new management). >.< Trouble is, we have a clause in our lease that says something about maintaining peace and order and no tenant will disturb the peace and happiness of any other tenant, blah blah blah. Honestly? This clause may well not even exist, and this is the gods' honest truth.

Around the time of our anniversary last Summer (end of July), Preston and I started fighting. I hadn't been sleeping again. I was sleeping maybe three hours a week again. I was at the end of my emotional rope and heading toward depression fast among other problems.
Mari Adkins: harlan vampires seriesmariadkins on July 14th, 2007 03:30 pm (UTC)
(i had to break this up because it got very long and LJ wouldn't let me post it whole)

Well, the new owner's solution, in mid-August, wasn't to punish the people upstairs, but us, apparently. We had a choice. We could move into one of two townhouses, or tough it out. Honestly, we should have toughed it out. We could take a townhouse in the back of beyond out by the pool and clubhouse or one close to where we already where, but which opened up right onto the parking lot. Preston and I were screaming and yelling almost constantly at this point. He said if we were moving and being forced to leave our home, we had to take the first townhouse - because it would be ready two weeks sooner than the other. Otherwise he wasn't moving.

Now, Preston's never understood that you don't leave major life decisions up to emotionally distraught Maris because the decisions they make always come out being the exact wrong ones.


We never got to see this apartment until the morning we moved into it. It's a pit. I stood here and cried. Honestly, I spent the first four months we lived here in tears. By the time we lost Grey Lady in mid-January, I was ready just to curl up and say "fukidol".

See, they didn't tell us until we started moving that I couldn't take "my" new appliances from #26 and bring them to this one. The appliances in this apartment are old, filthy, and don't run worth a damn. The freezer defrosts and/or runs at its own discretion (sometimes it do, sometimes it don't); the fridge doesn't hold a proper temperature, either. The back burners on the stove won't boil water - this is the gods' honest truth. None of the appliances had been cleaned before we moved in; it took Preston almost six weeks to get the oven clean enough for us to use. The cabinets in this kitchen (larger than the old kitchen) are apparently original to the complex (and this side of teh complex is 40 years old). I have seven I can't even use, and two drawers I can't use. I had to throw an absolute bitch fit to get them to rebuild the cabinet beneath the sink; it was so full of mold and so rotten that I couldn't bear to get around it -- let alone use it? Riight. Sure.

Gods know when the carpeting and vinyl in this place has been replaced. And the kitchen and entry were so filthy that almost a year later, we've still never been able to get them "clean". Even clean enough to say "clean". You know? It makes me sick thinking about it. The vinyl in the upstairs bathroom? It looks like it's circa 1985. Seriously. And I wouldn't be surprised if it was.

The bathtub leaks like a sieve - right down the wall between my kitchen and dining room. I should take pictures of the "outside" damage it's done; I hate to think what's *between* the wall...

They came in and did some very minor repairs after we first moved in. But Preston and I both were told that any major repairs (the bathtub, the mold, the ill-fitting windows, the horrible front door and its bad locks, and more) won't even be considered until we move out.

So no. I got the short end of the stick. I got punished. And the people who lived above #26? They moved out at the end of October. Fueling my depression even more.

There's more. A lot more. But that's the general crux.
Mari Adkins: dork in a bonnetmariadkins on July 14th, 2007 03:31 pm (UTC)
I have to say, that as bad as all this has been, this isn't anywhere near as bad as the hell we went through at the complex we moved away from in 2005...
Tapatitapati on July 15th, 2007 08:09 am (UTC)
Ugh...I know you probably can't bear the thought, but maybe you can find a much better place when you're able to face moving again.

To have to deal with that on top of everything else!

Mari Adkinsmariadkins on July 15th, 2007 05:10 pm (UTC)
Oh we've talked about moving. We just can't afford to move.
equani_tsulaequani_tsula on July 16th, 2007 10:33 am (UTC)
oh boy...
Shall we talk about the landlord who was only waiting for his once flooded complex to fall down so he could get the insurance and get out or the place where the bathroom ceiling leaked so bad that I often stood in ankle deep water to BLOW DRY MY HAIR until the whole fucking thing went FLUP one night into the floor (you know what they did? Put in new ceiling tiles - the workmen wading in ankle deep water just replaced the ceiling tiles with water dripping down on their dumb fuck heads from the roof) or the guys who ignored it when the whole porch roof fell onto the porch (I seem to have roof problems, hmmm) for months and then tried to evict us for our CATS? Then there was the guy who thought it wasn't a problem for me to be in a house with a broken front door lock that resulted in the door hanging open, unlatchable, when I lived a block off the "strip" and had several times had drunk strangers try to walk into the house through said door so that I kept it locked at all times. This was the same gentleman who tried to convince me that a $500 a month heating bill was normal. I finally pulled off the thin, cheap wall paneling myself to discover there was nothing - not wall board, dry wall, nothing at all between us and the wood siding outside. I tried to wash the walls there once - and the paint came off. My special favorite though, is twice we moved into a house or trailer house that quite literally had no plumbing. Oh, the visible stuff was there, but when the water was turned on - it gushed out from beneath the house without ever reaching the indoors. And then there was the all bills paid place where the landlord was screaming at me for the heat. Finally he sent over his son - who broke the ice on the toilet for me and admitted it could be a little bit chilly inside that particular house. (Last I saw that house, they were using it for a storage building) Did I miss anyone? Oh yeah, the house in Sapulpa. I can't even start on that one. Lets just say that the rent was free for clean up for a year - and he should have been paying us to stay, let alone clean and work on the place. **shudder**

I can seriously sympathize about the neighbor problems, too. I worked nights and lived in a duplex next to a couple of young guys who were laid off airplane workers. They had plenty of money and no jobs - so they partied all day long, stereo blasting, people in and out and yelling and...when I went to complain they just invited me in to party. I never did get it through to them that some people WORK and need to SLEEP.

All things considered, it is no wonder I enjoyed living in a tent and the car. ROFLMAO