|
Aug 14, 2008 - 06:29 AM |
|
|
I fucking hate this house |
|
|
In January this year I heard the house was going to be sold. I'm renting two rooms here, and didn't even know the legal side of the story. In June I heard I can stay in this house and keep the rooms. I'll get new housemates, but I didn't care for that. The good thing is that I had the rooms and a huge living room downstairs.
Since the beginning of this month the new owner(s) decided to renovate the house. Where once was the living room are now two new rooms. One less reason to stay, but I didn't move. I had the two rooms and that's that.
I was trying to get another room on the same floor that was empty, so I decide to ring the person regarding that. She tells me that all rooms are sold, in a kind of laughing matter. I get angry and say that they have a problem. She said I do. I said I didn't and that I would make some calls.
I ring the broker and he checks the contract for me and says the house was sold with me in it. He said he'd call the crazy woman for me and explain it. Later he calls back to say he didn't get to talk to her, but left a voicemail. He suggested that I better call her again if she doesn't reply within a week.
The week passed, so I call again. Yes, they heard the message, and they give me the bank account, so I can pay the rent. All is fine, you'd say.
No. Yesterday the crazy lady came to this house, and started to label the rooms. For whatever reason, she's crazy after all. No sign of anything being wrong.
Today I woke up because someone rang the doorbell. Since there never has been any communication between me and all these people, I had to pull some wicked shit out of my ass. When the living room was going to be destroyed, they told me I could put my personal belongings (3 couches, tables, chairs, TV, consoles, lamps, closets etc.) in one of the new rooms. And so I did, my stuff is there and I'm waiting a new signal for me to do silly stuff.
So as I said, there was a guy here today. The stuff had to be removed in 24 hours or I'd be picked up as trash. 24 fucking hours? I called my dad, and he'll come help me get rid of the stuff, but just 24 hours? Then the guy tells me I had to leave as well.
Now shit has hit the fan. I pay the rent, it was all fine, and I have to go away? I got angry again (not showing it, obviously, I'm not that stupid) and told him that I wouldn't move and they'd have to go to court and fight it. He said that's not the way it works. I looked it up prior to this, and it is the way it works. If I refuse to move away (and I have every right to stay here) they have to go to court and have one of the six reasons that are legal reasons for me to go away. They include stuff as extreme disturbance (not paying rent, loud music, making a lot of trash etc.), having a special contract etc.
Then he tells me I am a disturbance. Apparently the crazy lady noticed a few things that broke in this house. When I moved all my furniture away I accidentally hit a window, which broke. Or something like that, eh Sian? But that's all I did. There's been a hole in the door of the bathroom ever since I lived here, and a window has a crack in here ever since I moved here. Nothing of that is my fault. Apparently she figured I did all of that. I made a lot of trash too, such as bottles of booze that are lying around. Those aren't even mine too begin with, so I see no need for me to clean up shit that's not mine. I tell him all of that, and then I tell him to call the broker, since he looked it up for me and should be able to explain the situation. In the meantime I've been throwing all the stuff that's not mine away. Fuck you half empty bottle of Bacardi. You made me angry. He also said that I told them I'd move.
Now that's a different story. When they came to view the house (btw - they are called six-pack, great way to name yourself after beer) they asked me when I'd go away. I told them I had no idea. Now they turned that all against me and all claim I said I'd leave. All of them. He even said, literally 'that's your word against six others'. What a dick. I looked it up, and an oral statement isn't enough to get me out, so I'm safe there.
I don't know where things go from here. I'm fucking sick of all these people telling me I can't live here and would love to move. On the other end I want to prove them wrong very bad. Very, very much.
I'm close to losing it all here, grabbing a knife and stab a few of them in the back. But that probably will get me into prison.
Or will it?
*mysterious ending*
Response entries:
I still fucking hate this house by Grawl
|
|
|
|
|