Here we are again. My husband, daughter, and I are once again renting a house from slumlords. I don’t know what it is about this town, but I’m about to go ape shit crazy if I feel like one more person is taking advantage of us. The whole deal too, I’m not going to half ass it. Flinging poo and all. This is the fourth rental we have lived in since moving to the coast of Oregon. We left the first house because we needed to save money (also issues with decency of property management) so we moved in with my parents, which was only a few streets over. Living with my parents again was a special kind of hell, but that’s another story. Then someone my husband considered a friend, who owns rental properties offered us a place. It was a dump. Verbal agreements were never kept, among other things. The sweet ass kicker in the nuts was the water came from a well, and the water pump stopped working-4 times in 2 months.
After pathetic attempts at fixing it with the least amount of money being spent as possible, the owner finally lets us know he will not be fixing or replacing the well, so we should move asap if we want running water back in our lives.
On April Fools day (of course, I should’ve known) we find the house we are currently renting. We had to wait another month for repairs to be done. And what a surprise, when it came time for us to move in, it still wasn’t finished. I told my husband I guarantee whatever is not done before we move in, will never be finished. Now here we are two months later with the house still under construction. My husband discussed a break in the rent while we wait for the repairs, but slumlord Mr. All Promisesandnoresults says no. He also let us know, if we are not happy we can give our thirty-day notice anytime.
My biggest problem is the communication. Honestly, whatever happened to simple courtesies? Someone is supposed to show up and then they just don’t. Never a phone call, singing telegram, nothing!
What really sucked us in this time, was the fact the owner of this house is a little old lady who makes treats and sells them at the local market. How do you not trust anyone who makes treats? We were not fully aware the one making most of the decisions is her son. But again, you automatically trust a guy whose mommy makes jam, jelly, pies, cookies, and other various delicious treats in a small town.
I cannot move again. At this point the sound of a tape gun brings on a migraine. I’m also fairly certain I’ve developed an allergy to cardboard. Once again we made the mistake of assuming someone was a decent human being, and once again as long as a landlord has things like running water, finished flooring, no ivy growing through the wall in the laundry room, no holes in the ceiling or a non-existent pest problem, in THEIR home, then they just don’t give a fuck about the rental property with a good family ,who just want to live in a decent home.
P.S. They installed the cheapest toilet seat I have ever come across in my 33 years on this planet and I’m two seconds away from using it as a frisbee. (And if it accidentally flies through the house window of the guy in charge, then so be it.)