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What's that smell?

Subtitle: Move-in horror stories.

I’ve been lurking a lot lately because reasons,* but I bring to you a story of victory. Victory after much tribulation.

I moved into a new place on Tuesday. I immediately regretted every decision I’d ever made that brought me to this place. There were holes in the walls. There were broken sinks. There was a broken toilet. There was a thick patina of dust on every surface and a fruit fly infestation that could have furthered scientific research.


I shed many tears; I drank much wine. But on Wednesday, rays of sunshine appeared. The property management company proved to be abso-fucking-lutely delighted that they had Doc Stockton and I in this wee house, instead of 4 students, and they worked like mad beavers on meth correcting so many problems. Paint was applied. Walls were patched. I set about the Herculean task of cleansing the Augean stables we had rented.

And just now (at ass-o-clock in the evening) I have identified the source of that godawful musty stench in the kitchen. The stench that has made me make this face for the last few days every time I walked through... And while it should be so depressing, I view it as a victory.

The countertop is rotted next to the sink. It is beyond my ability to fix. Which means, in the morning, I will call the property management company. They will dispatch their jack-of-all-trades (who is very lovely to look at, I might add), and they will fix it.


I have never NEVER lived in a place where, when there is a problem, they fix it. I think the only reason this place was such a hole before is that the former tenants didn’t feel the need to report issues.

So, that is the tale of my roller coaster of a move. Share your best/worst/most grimace-worthy move stories, so we all may learn, grow, and groan...


*Grad school while working, plus a move that spanned 3 months. 3!!!!!!

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