Uncreative Expression

    We did it! The apartment is rented and the couple we chose will sign the lease and make the first payment tomorrow. Sure, there was the speech impediment, the limp, and the flaky skin disease (far be it for me to judge a list of legitimate health concerns), but I'm pretty sure they have all their teeth, they smelled clean, and they appear to be very sweet and excited about the rental space. I must admit, I am rather glad to have this task behind us.... it's fairly cumbersome trying to juggle all of those emails, keeping everyone's information straight and setting up appointments that people will inevitably no-show. And when the prospective tenants did arrive for their look at the apartment, it was taxing trying to sell them on the bright fuscia, old-school baby blue, and canary yellow rooms ("creative expression" should be limited to those tentants who aren't blind.... literally, our last renter only had one working eye).

    My husband continually referred to the bathroom as Big Bird's dressing room when viewers cringed and shielded their eyes from the radiant color that was used to "brighten the place up a bit". After staring at any one of the colors for too long, you could see how the rest of the rooms didn't look too bad, afterall. I was still able to put a positive spin on the place as having "great bones" and "unique touches" while pointing out it's usable space. My husband? Not so much. One couple walked through and wasn't seeming very excited about the unit and having to repaint. My husband responded with "Yeah, I wouldn't blame you if you don't want the place...."  This was after he went into lengthy stories that seemed to have no bearing on the renter, apartment, or task at hand. After that, he was instructed to keep his mouth shut unless asked a specific question, and even then, he was to give only short, direct answers.

    Furthermore, it has to be said that people who refuse to clean out ovens, allowing mold to grow on top of old grease (which I didn't even know was possible), should be forced to sit in a bathtub of the greasy mold, allowing it to cake their skin like it did my hands as I was elbow deep in their old gunk this weekend. I rolled over in the middle of the night and woke up, still smelling the citrusy aroma of Goo Gone clinging to me like a damp sweat... But no matter. It's over, we're landlords again. As a nice gesture, I'll even bring the new tenants a housewarming gift... two pairs of ultra-dark sunglasses for each of them to wear in the "special" colored rooms.