Betsy goes crazy

Today marks the one month anniversary of the day John and I left Lansing. It also marks our security depsit from the old house two weeks LATE. John called the moron landlord today to find out what the hell is going on.

We knew it was going to be a problem, even before we left. When we moved in, we paid the first month’s rent ($565) and the security deposit ($565.) We also paid $250 for the new carpet—The Moron told us that if we paid half of the $500 carpet cost, he would accept that in lieu of a pet deposit. So, Problem Number 1: we didn’t get that in writing.

Problem Number 2 is that The Moron assumes that any household with a cat in it will “smell like cat.” Problem 2a: he doesn’t know what “cat” smells like. Having owned cats all my life, I do know what “cat” smells like, and I can say that the only “cat smell” in our house was in the corner where the Christmas tree stood, and I got rid of that “smell” with nothing but a can of scented powder and a vacuum cleaner.

Problem Number 3 is that The Moron is a fucking moron. But y’all porbably knew that already.

Back when the basement flooded, The Moron helped me out by setting up fans and a dehumidifier down there. The basement carpet, formerly known as “the new carpet,” took on a musty, Michigan-basement odor. No amount of incense or air freshener relieved the musty smell. The Moron did not keep his promise to rent a carpet cleaner and steam the smell out of the basement. The loveseat and chair that John and I kept down there are now musty-smelling in our new living room.

The Moron walked into our basement when we were moving, sniffed a noseful of the musty smell and proclaimed it “cat smell.” Told us he’d have to take the carpet cleaning fee out of our deposit.

It’s not a cat smell, you fucking moron, it’s from your goddamn carpet, and it’s your own goddamn fault. Your fucking sump pump was unplugged, up in the front apartment where I couldn’t get to it to plug it in.

He couldn’t quote us any figures and I didn’t tell him to go to hell before we left. Now WE had to call HIM to find out why we hadn’t gotten our security deposit back within two weeks, and he’s taking two hundred dollars for a brand new carpet.

Brand new carpet my ASS.

1. He didn’t try to clean the carpet first?
2. We PAID for that carpet.
3. The smell was not from our cat.
4. The smell was his fault.

John’s on the phone with the Lansing Renters’ Rights Association. I’m doing laundry, and getting more pissed off every second. The laundry facility in our complex is not air conditioned. All the heat generated by these machines, half of which don’t work. They work well enough to take your money, but not well enough to wash your clothes or give the money back. And the garbage can smells. And the soda machine has no diet soda. It’s not OUT of diet, it HAS NO diet. No wonder half the citizens of Georgia have brown teeth. Sweet tea, for chrissake. I’d rather spend two hours in my ghetto laundromat in Lansing, with the dealers and the smokers and the fucking screaming children.

I’m dripping sweat on the page, the clothes I’m wearing need to be washed, and all I can smell is a stale rubber garbage can. And I’m drinking sugary grape soda. Let’s ALL move to the South.