To Hell and Back

Recently, the wife and I started searching for a home. Recent issues with our landlords and our neighbors provided the perfect impetus; and we realized that we're just too damn old to rent. For a couple weekends now we've been traveling around the area with our realtor, looking at homes. Some are scary - like the house in Milan where mold covered the entire second floor - while some are decent, save for the neighborhood - like the house in between a junkyard and several large, angry dogs. It's been an adventure and a learning experience, and we haven't put offers in anywhere yet. Thankfully we are dealing with an experienced realtor who has been honest and extremely patient with our n00b-ishness.

So where does Hell come in? Most recently, this weekend.

We scheduled appointments to check out homes early on Saturday with our realtor and my wife's father. We went to bed early on Friday night, expecting to get rested up for Saturday's tromp through potential properties. Unfortunately, we were awakened from a semi-restful slumber at 3:15am by the overpowering smell of cigarette smoke. How overpowering? Well, my wife is asthmatic and it nearly sent her into an attack. Mind you, there is a no-smoking clause in the lease and they've been talked to before about this. After calming down and burning some incense to get rid of the smell, we tried to get back to sleep. Our alarms woke us early from a fitful slumber, and we blearily staggered into the kitchen for strong coffee to get us moving.

Between the lack of sleep and the overwhelming tang of dog piss in the houses, we were starting to write off the day as a total loss. Things started looking up, however, when we wandered through a partially-restored historic home in Depot Town. Very solid, newer carpeting. Refinished hardwood floors...
...no siding. Broken window. Covenants since it's in a historic district. Outrageous property taxes.
...
Crap.

We consoled ourselves that night with dinner at Arbor Brewing, and collapsed on the couch at home and reviewed the day's events. That night we went to bed early, and had nightmares about ending up trapped in our current apartment for another year.

Sunday greeted us with rain, and the lovely smell of pot in our kitchen and bathroom. This had been addressed before, and we were assured that "it won't be happening again." Apparently not. I called the police, and two cop cars showed up. From the length of time they were there and the amount of screaming and thumping/furniture throwing that went on after the cops left, I'm guessing that our fabulous neighbor was issued a misdemeanor and a fine. Now, before everyone thinks me a complete bastard, I'm not anti-drug. You're free to put whatever you want into your body, provided:
1. You're not forcing it down my throat.
2. You're not doing it in the same area as a FIVE-MONTH OLD BABY.
3. It's been requested that you don't do it in the house because a)there's a non-smoking clause in the lease and b)the folks downstairs from you don't want you to (see #1).

Here's a visual idea of what we deal with from these people in addition to the pot/cigarette smoke, loud thumping late at night, perpetually crying baby, screaming, etc.:

This - I think - is dog vomit, right outside our front door. As far as I can tell, it's been there since Saturday night. Thankfully, the recent rain has washed away the piss-stained snow that was there before.


Yep. A dirty diaper. Right in front of - but not IN - the trash can. Wonderful, isn't it?

To top it off, the landlords are either unable or unwilling to do anything about this, despite our numerous complaints.

Please - for my sanity; for my wife's sanity; for the sanity of our cats: if you're reading this, send positive energies our way so we can find a house and get away from these people.