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We Hate It Here

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Master and me try so, so hard to make the best out of crummy situations, and you know what?  Most of the time we do pretty okay.  Master and me just renewed our lease in the apartment complex we live in, and we weren’t super happy about it at the time.  For one, our rent went up (not a ton, but still), and for two, as time goes on we love this places less and less.

See, when we first moved here, we were happy as can be. Maintenance issues got taken care of in a reasonable amount of time (for the most part), and everyone was polite and helpful down at the office.  There were things that could have been improved on, but no place is perfect.  Really, we liked the town and just the whole area where we lived and we felt like we were reasonably content. Since about four months in to living here, we have been getting more and more frustrated.

First it was little things: the lights in the hallways have never, ever worked since we moved in.  We complained weekly, and they finally fixed them – a couple of weeks ago when they had guys coming in to inspect the property.  Figures.  As soon as they blow out again, I’m sure that’ll be it for us.

Then there was the fact that no one ever, ever picked up the phone until about a month or so ago.  You had to go all the way down there, and even then, you weren’t guaranteed an answer to your problem or question.  How wonderful.

Before we moved in, they hadn’t fixed a single thing that the previous tenants broke.  For example: the shower in the dungeon just plain didn’t work (and it took them until after I got out of my boot before they got a plumber up here to fix it).  The bathroom door by the bedroom doesn’t click shut.  The stove was broken.  The refrigerator died four months after moving in.  The carpets were so dirty, that no matter how much we vacuumed after moving in, I wheezed continuously the first several months after moving in, and I was constantly sick.  Fun?  Right.

The list literally goes on and on and on.  Master and me have been really tolerant, but we’re really upset now.  Why?

Because this place doesn’t give a flying fuck about us.  That’s why.  A few weeks ago, there was a wasp in here.  A fucking wasp!  It was only one, so I didn’t panic (too much), and I killed it with my crutch (because I’m a complete baby and didn’t want to have to deal with getting too close to it.  Eww.  Anyway, I went about my business, and then another week later, there was another one.  And the next day – another one, and another one!  First, I tried to look around to see if there were any small holes the wasps could be crawling in from.  I couldn’t find any, and we had taped up the porch door so that it couldn’t open any longer, because it’s getting cold now and we wanted to be sure it was insulated, so it’s not like we were leaving the porch door open or anything like that.

I call up the front desk, the guy on the phone sounded really sympathetic and was trying to explain that they were probably out on the porch, etc, and that they would send the exterminator out.  When I explained that the wasps were inside the house, and that we could not figure out where they were coming from, he panicked a bit and told me that he would escalate this so it was a high priority item.  Wonderful.  I was getting somewhere.  THERE ARE FUCKING WASPS LIVING SOMEWHERE IN OUR APARTMENT!

Like a good girl, I waited two days for the exterminator to come.  Of course, the day they said he’d be there, he was a no show.  And of course the woman on the phone didn’t give a flying fuck.  “Oh, (giggle) I see it was in the computer.  No clue why they didn’t come today.  They’ll be there next Wed.”

You’re fucking kidding me.

You do know that wasps are poisonous to cats, and if Serenade or Sabrina eats one, they could die? And I do my best, but I can’t watch them while I’m asleep or anything.


Master and me went down to the office, and tried talking to someone in person.  They could not give less of a fuck.  I’m sorry if the rest of the world thinks this is petty, but this was pretty much the straw that broke the camel’s back.  Master and me are fed up with this place, and we are not going to renew our lease next year, if we can help it.

Honestly, there are so many more things that have gone wrong here and we’re beyond livid.  I don’t have the patience to write them all down.  HATE.  THIS.  PLACE.

Unfortunately, our lease ends in November of next year, so we have almost another full year to go.  I suppose management could change hands for the one millionth time, and of course there’s a chance it’ll improve.  Doubt it though.  And neither one of us is really in the mood to stick around and hope it gets better.  We’re angry, and frustrated, and INVADED BY FUCKING WASPS.

Of course, my body sucks at being useful, so I’ll have to start packing two months ahead of time, like always, and it’s actually really good that we know now that we don’t want to stay.  We were planning on buying a bunch of furniture to put in this place, but see no real reason, if we’re planning on moving in less than a year.  Why make more furniture to bring with us?


Hate for renting.  Doesn’t matter who from.  Just…  Fucking hate renting.

Actually, the night we went down to talk to the “nice” lady at the office, Master told me in the car “I’m so glad you have low blood pressure.  Because you’re so angry and stressed right now, I’d be worried you’re going to have a heart attack.”

Heh. Yeah. Is it next November yet?