I didn’t know I was pregnant when Chase and I moved into our tiny 1-bedroom apartment, so my vow to “never move again” was shattered less than a month later when my cheap Rexall pregnancy test sported 2 lines. I hate moving. Haaaaate it. I used to enjoy it more – about five apartments ago, when it was just me and I only had the contents of my bedroom to haul about. Now I’ve accumulated a ton of furniture and junk, a husband who has furniture and junk of his own, and a baby who seems to have more junk than Chase and I put together. Moving is super daunting.
Having a baby means there’s an added pressure to find a nice place, with an extra bedroom or two, a yard, access to daycare, free laundry, a crime-free neighbourhood, etc. etc. Finding a place that has everything we want, in a neighbourhood we want, at a price point we want is almost impossible. In fact, I’d given up when we finally found IT – a house that had everything we wanted at only nominally more than we were willing to pay for it —- we were in heaven.
I should have known it was too good to be true. Something happens to me when I look at rental properties. I have a mental checklist of everything I am looking for and if my checklist is met, it blinds me to some of the other things I SHOULD have been looking for (cleanliness, for example). We got the keys to our new house yesterday and were horrified to find that the place was FILTHY. I swear, it wasn’t this dirty when we looked at it a month ago! The walls need to be washed in a bad way, there’s cigarette butts in our bedroom windowsill, garbage everywhere, millions of dead fruit flies (the majority of them seem to be IN our fridge and freezer)… The kitchen is literally half painted and both of our toilets are comparable to the commode Ewan MacGreggor uses in Trainspotting. I can be a total slob myself, but this place surpasses my limits. I have no idea how anyone lived in this place. Our landlord was so horrified when he saw it, he apologized profusely and is having someone come in and clean it this week (which, in my opinion, he should have done regardless). Apparently, he had no idea the previous tenants were such disgusting animals.
I am never moving again, so we’re going to make the best of it. This place is nowhere near as bad as the house Chase and I moved into when we first came to Toronto. Once it’s cleaned up, it will be great. It’s just kind of disheartening when you are expecting one thing and you get another.