Now we just have to get out...We managed to fill up a 16 foot truck and we still have to go back today for more and to give the place a quick scrub down. Because we were nice tenants like that. Living in a place 10 years, you treat it like your own, at least to a point. We've replaced outlets and plumbing, Adam painted it when he moved in. We called Roto Rooter when tree roots invaded the pipes periodically, and we kept said tree's branches clear of the power lines. And we never asked the landlords to fix these things, nor did we ever ask for compensation. We've been grateful for cheap rent and plenty of space in a town where both are becoming a novelty. We've been happy to be quiet tenants who never complain, and we've mostly been left alone to do just that.
We like the person who manages the property (she works for an owner who doesn't like making repairs)-- she's really gone to bat for us, getting things done that we'd just figured would be fruitless requests. We're sorry that she's going to have tenants who will demand basic upkeep (as they should!) and make it even harder for her to get the owner to cough up the money. Or have college students that party and trash the place. I was never crazy about it, but it's been a good house, all things considered. Frankly, with a little attention on their part, they could be charging a whole lot more.
Adam and I spent yesterday trying to muster up some sadness at leaving-- some kind of teary-eyed regret. I know he and his daughter have a lot of memories there, and I do too. I've lived there longer than in almost any other house. But it just wasn't coming. I think we're ready to move on.
Building a Chicken Run: Part One
1 hour ago