So, hey, story time!
A long time ago in a galaxy far away, girl meets boy and they decide to shack up. Needahouse. Boy finds a house. Great location, great schools, has a pool and a big yard. House also needs lotsa work, no problem! Boy is a general contractor. Boy tells girl about house, girl wants to see! Nope, no peeky, weird sellers are weird and only make the house available during weird hours. No worries, 4 bedrooms, 2 bathrooms, big kitchen, big house. Girl says, “Okeydokey. You’re a general contractor, whatever I don’t like we fix.” Boy says, “Right on!”
Flash forward a month. (Girl has only seen outside of house, has big plans for major yard overhaul since it is the Sanford & Son house. Also, pool is green and full of leaves. There are dead squirrels floating in there.)
Yay! Business bought house, got mortgage with fix-up money, let’s fixitup. After we go celebrate and have dinner.
Post-dinner. Boy and girl go to house, use key in door. Surprise! Former owners were hanging out in the living room, watching tv. Nothing is packed. Also, house is a total shithole.
Let me define shithole for you. In the “living room,” the furniture is ew, I would not sit on it…stains, rips, broken pieces. There are mice turds on the coffee table, right next to the plate of pizza dude was eating.
Lemme stop right there.
Dude, wife, and little girl live(d) here. Dude looked aggrieved that we had barged in on his evening. “What do you mean we have to move?” he says. “Our daughter has school tomorrow. Our dog is sick. Where will we go?”
Uh.
Well, we own the house now. We just bought it. You were there, and got a big fat check. Remember?
“But…but…it’s 10:00 at night! It’s too late for us to leave!”
“Dude, you got to go.”
We left for a bit as they gathered their belongings.
Let me define lots of crap for you. 83 washers and dryers scattered throughout the property. A house full of furniture, knick-knacks, dead mice, and dead squirrels. Unbelievable piles of shit everywhere.
Anyway, they left. I had to use the facilities, so I went into the bathroom praying to god there was toilet paper. The bathroom was caked with toothpaste gunk, dirt, and gooped up toilet paper and tissues. When I lifted the lid to the toilet, the inside was black and swarming with flies. I ran outside and vomited.
(Here is where I will remind you these people were living here with a little daughter.)
Fuck that shit, I went to the store for some cleaning supplies and used the restroom there.
Came back, started cleaning and talking about what to tear out first.
The house had been divided into two “apartments.” The part they were living in was two bedrooms, a living room, a kitchen, and a bathroom. All on the first floor. I can’t even begin to describe how disgustingly filthy this place was. Mouse droppings were everywhere. When I ran the water in the kitchen sink, I heard a splashing sound. The pipes were not connected to any drainage, and it drained directly into the basement.
The second “apartment” also had a kitchen. I think it had a bathroom somewhere, but I don’t remember. There was a living room, and then upstairs there were I think two rooms and an attic space. All of the rooms were stuffed full of old furniture, toys (one area was a playroom for the little girl, it seemed), and a lifetime of crap that belonged to the former owner’s parents. All also covered in mice turds. And squirrel nests. The house was infested with squirrels. If the downstairs was bad, upstairs was worse.
I know this is all useless without pictures. Those pictures were eaten when my computer crashed a few years ago. So sad.
Anyway, there was some legal wrangling that involved them paying rent until they moved out and left lots of crap behind. They also ended up paying for two roll-off dumpsters to get rid of said crap.
It was amazing. The more we worked, the more amazed I was by how anyone could live in such squalor. After living there for awhile, we learned that they both had some mental health issues, and that the house had been his parents’ house before they moved in. His mom ran a hair salon out of the garage. His dad was the town drunk and got killed walking home from the bar, staggering through the road. It was all a very sad story, so I eventually came to feel sorry for them. I heard that they never really got on their feet after they sold the house – it was a last ditch effort to survive on their part.
This house was cursed, though. Boy and I broke up, and we ended up losing the house (and our investment) after a nasty chain of events (another story for another day).
So here’s to everyone having nice smooth closings and no surprises, eh?
