Back in January I was getting pretty concerned about my inability to find an apartment. I saw a great one (but the tenants selected someone else), saw one I largely disliked, saw another where I wouldn’t have been able to make it from the front door to my bedroom without getting a stoned, and then saw one that was horrifying. I also waited outside someone’s house for an hour and they never turned up. It was on a street where I was pretty sure muggings happened.
But what was really concerning was the fact that I was getting turned down by the vast majority of people I would inquire to on facebook. There was probably something wrong with my selection methodology, and I ultimately never figured out what it was. But most people were just turning me down outright, which always does wonders for your self-esteem.
But finally I got a chance to see another apartment. I went there trying to hide my absolute desperation, which was likely palpable at that point. I met the tenant who I was to replace and one of the others. The place was decorated in stoner-chic (a psychedelic-ish tapestry hanging over a living room wall, Christmas lights hanging in perpetuity in the corridor leading to the bedrooms), and the air in the apartment had a faint after-taste of marijuana. Well, I was expecting that in Richmond. The house looked clean enough. I suggested I meet the other flatmate, but the person showing me the room told me not to worry about it.
I decided to jump on the opportunity, although I did wait a day or two to not seem too desperate. We set a move in day for the first of February.
And then that got pushed back a day, which was the first red flag.
When I moved in the first thing I noticed was a grimy, soot-soaked bong on the living room coffee table. It was accompanied by a grinder and a lot of marijuana. I can’t say I was happy about all that, but it was something I could deal with.
The second red flag was that the guy I was replacing hadn’t moved out yet. When I was moving in. My second morning in the house found him sleeping on the couch. With his girlfriend.
I spent a lot of those first days trying to get my things organized, and I soon realized that I had no idea who actually owned the the bong and marijuana in the living room. It seemed like there were two people smoking from it.
It started to become very obvious that there was some bad blood in the apartment. Despite there being about four of us living in a house made for three, none of use were ever in the same room together. Eventually, the first guy got the fuck out, leaving most of his belongings in there. And for some reason, he then started messaging me about when he could come over to collect some of his things. I had no idea why he had to come when I was there, but it became clear when he came over maybe a week after he had left when he kept on asking me if I was the only one home.
Shit. Who needs this garbage? Well, I couldn’t imagine that it would last too long.
Soon the dust settled, I was moved in and the other guy was moved out. But as they came to accept the fact that I had moved in, whatever standards of cleanliness they were maintaining came to a screeching halt. The place immediately started to look like a shit bomb had gone off. I could no longer find the kitchen table for all the junk amassed on it. One of the flatmates periodically leaves their underwear in the bathroom and there they remain.
Things were bad in China, but they were never this bad.
It was at that point that the other two flatmates started the hard bitching and moaning.It turns out that the guy I replaced just stopped paying bills at some point. To make matters worse, he was too prideful to tell them about it. It got so bad that they were going to be evicted (what made this all particularly puzzling was the fact that while the thrown out guy was trying to move out, I heard him on the phone planning a vacation with his girlfriend). He didn’t move out as much as he was thrown out. And when this weird, relatively financially independent 30-something offered to move in, it seemed like a great option.
So it turns out that not only was I desperate to get into this apartment, but they were desperate to get me in there. Funny how that works out.
Immediately, my paranoia took over and i was expecting to be hosed. But they have so far seemed pretty forthcoming about most of the bills, and the fact that they owed several thousand dollars in back bills.
Well, I am on the hook for being in this shithole till August. It cant come soon enough.