- No central air.
- Draftiness.
- Plumbing issues.
- A luxurious seven-minute hot shower.
- A fridge that maintains a temperature of 60 degrees on it's coldest setting, causing food to spoil at amazing rates.
- A window (in my bedroom) that pours water when it rains.
- Window units that have the wrong amount of BTU's for the square footage of the rooms they are trying so desperately to cool in the Alabama heat.
- Flying roaches.
- An oven with only one rack
- A stove with four unlevel eyes
- A dishwasher that leaves mystery crust on the dishes
- A bathroom with no ventilation or electrical outlets
When I got it home and read the instructions, I began to see that this stuff wasn't messing around. It required the use of rubber gloves and protective eye wear, and was capable of burning holes through things. Not having either gloves or safety goggles, I was forced to improvise, donning a giant pair of sunglasses and wrapping my hands with grocery sacks. I carefully cut the top off of the bag and removed the child-safety lid from the bottle. The smell was putrid. I began to pour it down the drain, and it went down pretty well at first ... and then it started to gurgle and bubble and spit black goo into the tub. The smell forced me out of the bathroom and into my bedroom where I stuffed a towel under the door to prevent the rotten-egg stench from entering. Twenty minutes later it was time for the five-minute cold water flush. After a few minutes of running water I began to hear the chug and slurp of water going down a drain. My drain. I took a shower even though I didn't need to just to remember what its like to not stand in my own filth. The apartment may smell like someone hid a dozen eggs under the sofa a few months back, but dang it - the tub drains.
Take that, Landlord. I am better than you.



