Busted my bum today. Today Hubby had to work but I was home with the mess. I tried to be productive.
Cleaned the litter box, unpacked two totes, broke for breakfast. Unpacked and collasped uncounted more boxes, filled bookshelves, spun couch, moved elliptical, arranged most of kitchen. Pigged out on ice cream and a glass of wine for an early lunch. Addendum: Frey Natural (organic white: bleh. Tastes like lightly carbonated, slightly bitter, blah. But I'm not a huge fan of white wines anyway.
Called FPL, old electric off. Called water company, old water off tomorrow 0730 (stinks, I know she's moving in as soon as she has keys.) Shopped internet providers. ATT it is. It'll come on next week. Called Comcast, turned on net off. More boxes, more ice cream.
Ten minutes on the elliptical to help offset the ice cream, definitly not enough. Showered, and went to meet landlady for the walkthrough. (Since I ended with the landlady rant: We went feom her to the gym, where I warmed up, did inc chest press 3x10,15lb. *Yay! We then drove to check out the small gym I hunted, that I knew Shane would love, even though he said it's too far. We chatted with the owner, got a week pass, he did some more chest (I did inc chest flyes, 3x10, 10lb). He told me to stop there, but I snagged a 10 and tried some tri extensions. Right arm was fine, left, the tri locked. God I hate that. Too much home lifting. Owie. We left. He loves it. Doesn't even wanna shop the other gyms I found. Wants to sign up. Do I know my hubby, or what? We hung out, then I hit the public laundromat. Miss my washer and hang-rack. $5.25 for 3 loads washed and mostly dried, still no place go hang the damp. Grrrr.
Arriving at the Papaya house, the landlady was already there and pulling foliage out of the backyard.
She opened our meeting with the command 'open da doa.' I did so, smiling, and held it open for her to enter first. She'd already been in (so why have me open it?) 'I'ma have ta pay for cleaning service.' 'Excuse me??' I cleaned this house harder than I've ever cleaned (and we cleared military housing in 24 hrs, leaving only the slightly pet-shredded carpet to count against us.) I was instantly furious. The bitch jumped me! 'This floor is filthy!' Oh... my... god. Bitch I could have licked that floor when I left! 'No, it isn't. I swept multiple times, then mopped twice!' 'Look at all this dirt!' 'There's no dirt! I STEAM MOPPED!' 'It's all ground in dirt! (She toed over chips out of the tile, and 20 years of ground in staining.) Look,' she points to a tile 'ask your neighbor, we bleached this tile. Look how clean it is!' Excuse the fuck out of me, but hooray for you, you hands and knees stripped one fucking 9x9 tile. I hands and knees'd all the baseboards, the walls, every tile with some cat puke stuck to it (the moving was very stressful). 'What about that broken winda?' 'What broken window?' 'The bedroom window! It's broken.' 'We never even touched that window, it is NOT broken.'
At this point Shane arrived, having come straight from work. I spun around 'This is yours, I just got here. I'm going to get my plants.' I did that. They'd already been in the backyard, hacked out what was left of the plants that made the yard beautiful and then liveable. She'd moved my plants and a branch of my Persian Shield is snapped off. I collected my plants, one at a time, and set them in. My back seat. I also took an extra bucket off the potting soil from my garden. Can't believe I'm leaving it there for her to simply raze. I went back in and she was still trying to convince Shane the place was destroyed, that tenants are supposed to keep up the house (bzzt, try again). She even accused us of breaking the water heater, citing her proof as the fact that it was full of water. Well, got me there wiz kid, I concede it was full of water. (Insert eye-rolling). She somehow decided we should have told the previous landlord it was broken. Interesting. I don't recall taking cold showers for over a month, just so I could lay it on her... In fact I only suffered through one cold shower, and one towel-bath. I skipped the third day entirely, excepting hot spots.
I wrote our new address on a scrap and gave it to her, ignoring her 'I'll send you your refund in a letta from me.' I just know we're going to end up in small claims with this idiot. She claimed to be a landlord, and know this and that, and then acted directly opposite ay every turn. My burner once popped and caught fire. I got it off/out, but she happened to be there. I relayed it to her and she made it sound like I'd have to replace it. Excuse e moi? Wear and tear, Lady, that's you. Old shit giving out, that's also you. I replaced the stove knobs, scrubbed countless nasties that were in the house from previous tenants, REPAIRED shit. This place really is better than when we got it. Hag.
Shane, who has done some FL realty before, says she's basically trying to take us for a ride and use our deposits to refit half a duplex that's seen 20 years of tenants. The window is installed wrong, by the way. Something I never noticed since I NEVER TOUCHED IT. We tacked a blanket up over it (graveyard shifts) and never saw it. The cat never even sat in it! The front door doesn't seal, the slider rollers are worn and shot (heard her complain about that too), the fridge handle rusted and popped off, this shit isn't damage we've done. It's decomp. Tell me I should have had the landlord fix this and that. Bitch I should have called you day and night when I went a week without a pot burner, DAYS without hot water, had you come fix the slider, the maligned door, crooked cabinets, the missing cabinet toe-block, the non-functioning bathroom fan, the non-functioning sprinklers.
We lived quietly. We took care of our home. We even spackled the bookcase anchors with REAL SPACKLE! Not toothpaste! For a woman who mowed over my purple queen. WHICH she commented on 'See I told you it'd grow back.' ... I took a deeeeeeep breath, and nodded, and turned to leave.
