Painted
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The flat is done. All but the oven, which was pretty much ruined by the guy who lived there before me. There was still food in the grill when I moved in and a nasty load or tar in the pan below it.
So, ready for renting. That said, though, I bumped into the renter-outer next door who was in the process of changing his locks. He’s just got rid of his last set or renters and is selling up after a nightmare experience. The cow of a woman who was living there - the same one who would come back home at two in the morning and slam the door four or five times like it was the first time she’d ever been in a building with doors - has finally gone.
But now he can’t get rid of the mess she’s left behind - even with professional cleaners. And she stayed a week longer than she should have done. And now the flat is filling up with dodgy post, all with her first name but with a whole town’s-worth of different surnames.
Unlucky or par for the course?
Hmmm…
Oh, and someone has paintballed my car. Twice. The splat on the back is pink, which is quite delightful, but the yellow one at the front is very annoying.
I hope they wash off.
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