Anal-retentive Stuck-up Pedantic Uncut Mothers

#AnalRetention

Wed, Feb 24th, 1999 03:00 by Lilith DemHareIs ARTICLE

We recently moved. We bought a house. We moved everything out of the old cramped flat, into the new spacious house.

Time to clean the old place. So we did. Or rather, I did. He had to go to work. The invisible cat was still getting used to the new place. I had a few days between contracts, so I ended up over at the old place with lots of cleaning stuff.

I cleaned the old place. I thought it looked pretty good.

The agent had a few points I had missed.

The new owners thought it was a disaster area.

Huh?

We've all moved places before. A certain amount of cleaning (including carpets) must take place before the deposit is returned. Not everyone is the most meticulous of housecleaners. I'm not. So I overlooked the carbon scoring in the bottom of the oven. And I forgot about the oil on the driveway. The agent pointed it out.

However, the new owners had something else in mind...

I don't know how they got in, really. But they managed to get in. They harassed the poor agent to let them in during inspection. That's not gentlemanly conduct. I think it's downright illegal in this state.

And they had plenty to say on the state of 'cleanliness'.

First of all, the walls were a mess. And the carpet cleaner wasn't a 'real' professional, since he's got a bad reputation. (Funny, nobody had told me.) There was dust on the blinds, and marks on the floor, and dust in the window crevasses, and (gasp) there were fingerprints on the lightswitches!!

And there were a whole slew of 'problems'. You'd think vandals had been through the place, according to them.

Apparently, the agent had copped more flak than I did, because while she took out her frustrations on me, she only whinged about the legitimate points.

Armed with a written list, I set some things to right. The agent stopped by as I finished up, and she passed me off. I thought that would be the last time I saw the place. (I erroneously believed this the past two times.)

I no sooner got home, than the agent was ringing me. "The new owners took a look inside. They say the place still isn't clean, and they want you clean it up."

I had only left the place half an hour ago. Were the new owners hiding in the bushes, just waiting for me to leave so they could run their little white gloves behind the stove?

The agent only whimpered. Apparently, she had had enough, but couldn't quit the game. She gave me a list of complaints the new owners had.

'Grunge in the bathtub.' Grunge? I scrubbed that thing until the enamel wore away. I put so much Jif in there, there was a silica shortage.

"Black grunge or white grunge?" I asked. "White grunge," she confirmed.

Ah. The Jif.

I must have been a wimp, because I let her talk me into going over and cleaning up the Wish List from Hell. I realised, the moment I hung up the phone, how gullible I had been. Since I promised I'd go over and fix things, I couldn't welsh out.

The next day. Five-thirty. AM. I popped over early in the morning, at the time the new owners would least expect me. I did a few token cleans, including washing the dusty white silica from the tub. I also cleaned the toilet seat with caustic soda, and forgot to rinse. Made sure the stove was clean, and accidentally left some chemical on the heating elements. Loosened a few nuts on key water pipes under sinks. Then I left, locking the door.

Time for Him to go to work. We stopped by the agency the moment they opened, dropped off the key, and signed the form saying that we had passed inspection (which we had), we had the carpets 'professionally' cleaned (hey, he was in the phone book), and had fulfilled all the aspects of our contract. Our deposit was released to us (He could pick it up on his way home from work), and we dropped off all keys.

We were free.

Later that afternoon, our agent wasn't too happy, as the new owners weren't too happy. They'd found even more imaginary problems to nitpick about. I handed the phone to Him, and He plainly told the agent that there was nothing she could do. We had signed the paperwork, and thereby were legally freed.

Let the agent deal with the anal-retentive stuck-up pedantic uncut mothers. I never wanted to see that place ever again.

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