Posts Tagged ‘ Rental ’

Painting over the past

This weekend has possibly been the most tiring of my life. Saturday AM I got to the flat I usually rent out, painting and well, painting.

This morning (still there) I was on the phone standing in what used to be my bedroom and trying not to lean against the wet wall, when I noticed that there was a patch untouched by the magnolia paint. After the initial thought of ‘Better get that later’, I then started to think about all the memories that I had spent my weekend painting over.

That sounds really corny!

It wasn’t quite the cliche of as I put on the paint it was like painting over my memory, no, but it was odd standing there. There was just this moment after seeing the patch of unpainted plaster that then I glanced down at the carpet. It’s an awful thin purple which never matched the room and still doesn’t.

Suddenly I saw this photo of my friend that I took as she stood in the doorway ready for a night out. It seems like so long ago, but such a part of my life even though I only lived in the place for two years. Maybe it’s because every room was so filled with things that made the flat mine and my husband’s, the bedroom least of all actually. Now everytime I visit, it doesn’t seem like mine (maybe the kitchen and bathroom slightly) because a home isn’t just the walls and floor – it’s the furniture and trinkets, the photo frames and ornaments.

In that random moment as my the image of the photo of my friend popped into my mind, it kinda felt like mine again.

I haven’t lived there for two and a half years, yet everything there seemed so familiar. I guess the area always will, but maybe next time the flat won’t. It’s all just a blank canvas now for someone else and their life. For however long their tenancy is!

~ Persephone M

And So the Nightmare Continues

After yesterday’s post on the oddness and horrors my tenants have left my flat in, I wasn’t going to do another post about it this soon.

In all honesty, with my spineless, stupid rental company the next blog on the subject was probably going to be about them.

My husband’s just rung as he’s arrived at the flat. He has early morning appointments with builders tomorrow regarding the bathroom so needed to stay the night before. He is not happy.

Two weeks into their tenancy, the tenants complained that the toilet seat was broken, the shower head broken, the shower broken and the bath was leaking. Husband replaced the toilet seat and shower head. He saw the extent of the bathroom damage from previous tenants and refused to fix it as it was going to be a huge building job and would be easier without tenants. Of course, they’d signed a 6 month contract so we offered them to leave early at no penalty.

They wanted to stay.

They honestly didn’t seem to care that the bath had leaked so badly under the previous tenants that the bedroom wall was/is mouldy.

I wanted them out.

The mould had been hidden by previous tenants and the rental agency were so intent on getting their money and shoving some unsuspecting new tenant in that they ignored all of my husband’s emails requesting access to fix other problems they’d told us about.

Now, perhaps the tenants saw the fact that we weren’t doing anything about the bathroom, the bedroom and the broken shower as a sign that we didn’t care about the property, giving them free reign to leave me with full bins, dirty bins, a blocked toilet and a broken door lock.

Or perhaps the mould spores sent them mad.

Anyway, the disgusting mould and surrounding problems are a different topic. What makes no sense is why, in August, husband fitted a new toilet seat and yet he arrives there tonight and it’s not the one we fitted. Did they really manage to break two toilet seats in less than six months? What the hell have they been doing on the toilet?

Meanwhile, when I visited yesterday, the second door lock had not been locked by the check out operator. I rang immediately and complained on the pure fact that they had failed to secure my flat. However, when I went to leave I, too, could not lock the second lock. And so raises the question, why was I not informed on Friday? That property was left unsecured over night by a member of the rental company I pay. I had informed the agency that I was visiting the property and collecting the keys.

Not me and my husband.

Not my husband.

Me. A girl.

Not only did they leave the flat unsecure, they left it unsecure for a lone female to walk into.

As it happens, husband dearest has fixed the lock (but he can’t fix the blocked toilet). He says it looks like someone jammed something in there. Okay, so when did someone attempt (or manage) to break into the flat? Are they going to try again?

Perhaps the mould made them forget their keys.

Husband also noticed that the entire heating system (including boiler) had been turned off. Right in time for the forecasted snow. I am furious and can feel my own damn blood boiling hot enough to heat the flat. As of checkout, a gas reading is taken. If, as a bitter, mould-poisoned, tenant you really want to get one over on the landlord turn the heating up full whack and leave the next tenant or landlord to have to pay. Don’t hope the pipes freeze because if it happens within the two week window, you’ll lose your deposit. Idiots.

Oh, and leaving a toilet blocked won’t hurt the landlord either (although I really hope husband doesn’t need to pee tonight), but the plumber costs will come out of your deposit. Fools.

Why did I chose to do this?

~Persephone M

Tenants: What Not to do

So, today I visited the property I’ve rented out for the past two years, the one that I bought with my husband. First piece of bad news, according to the property guide that I picked up other properties in the area for sale have dropped by another 10k. No way am I going to sell at that sort of loss.

Second piece of bad news, apparently the tenants either ran out of boxes to pack their stuff or they decided that I am happy to dispose of all of their belongings. Honestly, I had to ring the rental agents to check that they had really moved out.

Not only had they left behind a drawer full of rubbish, they also left the following nice gifts for me:

  • a new toaster
  • a new kettle
  • cutlery and kitchen utensils
  • a cupboard full of plates, bowls and glasses
  • fantastic giant canvases of New York
  • a new lamp
  • a pair of shoes and two odd socks
  • a new bin – although disgustingly dirty
  • a used toothbrush, pair of tweezers, cleaning cloths
  • a half-filled bathroom bin with Lord knows what in!
  • a new housemate of a spider (clearly the blinds weren’t cleaned recently)
  • a helium balloon for me to play with when I get bored of throwing away their rubbish
  • a pile of random take-away menus and mail for me (including a freaking tax rebate!)
  • some cereal for when I get peckish
  • milk for the cereal in a turned off fridge
  • or perhaps the vegetable oil they left is for the cereal?

These are just some of the images, and I’ve ignored the dirt. What I find the most disgusting after the bathroom bin still half full (eww) is the freaking porn magazine!

And there was underwear in a cupboard – I pray it was clean!

I’ve rented before and never left somewhere in that kind of state. Even ignoring the dusty skirting boards and food stained floors, they’ve left exercise equipment and artwork behind. Who doesn’t empty the bins before they leave?

Anyone ever found odd things in their new home/rent?

Or has anyone ever left behind things when they’ve left somewhere in a move? Is it more common than I thought? My husband almost left behind our microwave when we bought our flat, but I certainly never left behind any rubbish! There are bins outside, fcol.

So, seriously, all tenants out there, please don’t leave half your life behind. Especially if you’re expecting the landlord to throw it away for you. I’m seriously tempted to post the tenant’s facebook addy for the world to see, future tenants beware!

Still in shock,
~ Persephone M

Nervous Nellie and me

According to Wiki Answers, the term Nervous Nellie refers to horses that used to be generically known as Nell and that horses can be skittish and jumpy. Earlier on today I would have described myself as a nervous nellie, until I read up on the definition. I think, perhaps, sometimes some people use words for the wrong reasons.

I would have described myself as nervous, except now I think I might mean apprehensive.

Could I be an apprehensive Annie?

It’s quite silly really. Two years ago in February/March time my husband and I decided that the housing market was such that we could not afford to keep our property empty. We were both already working in a different city to where our first home was and paying bills on it had become silly.

It had been over six months since I’d lived there, eight since my husband had and we’d started to feel settled in with my mum in her home. So one weekend we travelled up there, packed up every single thing (pretty much boxed for when we hoped we’d sell) and got a friend to drive a van. Most of that stuff remains boxed up in my attic.

On the Sunday, as we drove away from the town we’d started our married life in, I dropped all the keys to the flat in with a rental agent. Since that day, I haven’t stepped foot in what I consider my first home with my husband.

We’d lived in other houses, renting, before we bought our flat and then got married. Technically, less than three months of living together in our marital home, my husband moved out to start a new job in a new city. Two months later, I decided that I’d be back with him by winter. It might sound silly when you get to spend every weekend with each other, but there was something about spending winter alone.

Without the man I called husband.

Within a few days of me making my decision and telling my boss, my husband rang me with a potential job for me where he worked. I started within weeks and moved in with my mum, husband and a foster child.

It doesn’t matter how little time we spent living there as a married couple. It doesn’t matter that we only ever decorated the bedroom and bathroom to our tastes. It doesn’t matter that the only furniture we left behind was that which we were happy to replace. It doesn’t matter that the first table, cooker, bed, wardrobe and sofa that we ever bought together is in the flat, all being used by someone else. It doesn’t matter that we can’t decorate my mum’s house.

What mattered then and now is that the property isn’t empty and I’m not forking out masses on bills for a place that no one lives in.

Except the tenants leave tomorrow and then, because the place needs a bit of work before new tenants, I will be visiting it.

And that is what I’m nervous, or apprehensive, about. My husband visited back in August and was appalled at the state of the bathroom and I’m apprehensive about… well, it’s the cleaning and the weirdness of being back in my home.

I miss it. I know I can’t ever go back there, but I don’t want to see the home I had trashed. I don’t want to see what I once had and no longer have. I miss my home!

~ Persephone M