I’m going to have a quick outburst of rage before I leave my house this morning because that’s the kind of mood I’m in.
I’m exhausted and overworked, which is the make-up of a very vulnerable and delirious individual, consequently I may say some things I don’t necessarily mean. Fuck all of you.
My previous tenant moved out just under 2 weeks ago, and my new one moves in on Monday, so that gave me a 2 week window of opportunity to get the place together.
The previous tenant came with the property, and he remained a tenant for 3 years while I was the landlord. The property has always needed a cosmetic overthrown, but my tenant never complained, so I didn’t see the point in fixing something that wasn’t broken. If my tenant has equally bad taste as the his surrounding, that’s his problem. I hope he enjoyed having sex with his wife in a room coated with dark brown paint and a mouldy ceiling. Speaking of which, his wife conceived in that rotten dungeon of a room. True story.
I don’t know how my tenant managed it, but he tolerated a combination of rotting pipes, mouldy ceilings, and bright pink, sky blue and dark brown walls throughout his tenure. Perhaps he was genuinely colour-blind.
I’ve always dreaded the day he was going to give notice. Not just because he was a good tenant, but because I knew as soon as he left I would need to rectify the unorthodox colour scheme before anyone “decent” would even dream of renting the property. Seriously, every room needed multiple coats due to the aggressive and prominent colour palette. Every square inch of the property literally needed to be painted, and painted again.
I’ve been painting for 2 weeks solid now, and I’m at breaking point. I’ve been maintaining 2 full-time jobs back-to-back. I’m exhausted, bored, miserable and fed-up. I cannot wait for the next few days to be over. I’m only just starting to see a glimmer of light at the end of the tunnel, but I won’t be happy until I’ve squeezed through the other end completely, with a stiff drink in my hand, and ideally a pair of huge tits in my face.
I have a new found respect for painters. Actually, I’m not sure if I found respect or sympathy. Painting is bloody brain numbingly boring. I have no idea how anyone can do it every damn day. I’m actually surprised painters and decorators don’t have a higher suicide rate. After a week of painting I wanted to blow my brains out at the thought of holding another paint brush.
Applying the paint to the surface is only the tip of the ice berg, it’s the preparation that really gets on my tits – laying down protection sheets, cleaning the surface, applying polyfiller, sanding down the rough surfaces, masking the edges.. ZZZzzzzZzz KILL ME NOW.
I actually feel sorry for myself while I’m painting. I think about my friends out in town, having fun, doing cool shit like fingering girls on the dance floor in a seedy night club, while I’m ultimately fixing someone else’s stupid and careless mistake. I’m actually angry; angry at the previous owners for choosing such a ludicrous colour scheme to plague the property. What were they thinking? Idiots.
From what I’ve experienced, this is probably the lowest aspect of being a landlord- painting over a whole heap of someone else’s shit.
Here’s a picture of the “dark brown” walls and the rotting window frames, just so you have an idea of what I’m dealing with:
I fail to believe that this look was ever trendy, at least not in the last 15 years (the age of the property), so it’s essentially just a case of “no style”. I will get a ‘after’ picture of the bathroom later today.
Well, I hope you all enjoy the Lord’s day and enjoy your Sunday roast. I’m off to paint and stuff.
I hate you all.
Disclaimer: I'm just a landlord blogger; I'm 100% not qualified to give legal or financial advice. I'm a doofus. Any information I share is my unqualified opinion, and should never be construed as professional legal or financial advice. You should definitely get advice from a qualified professional for any legal or financial matters. For more information, please read my full disclaimer.