There was a guy living in the basement unit who was really nice. He had a cat named Popcorn "because that's what his poo smells like." Seriously. That's what he told me. His name was Chris. Ben and Amy lived in the top unit, which was smaller but it had two floors and a great deck.
A couple days after Ben and Amy moved in I thought he was going to kill her. She was screaming at the top of her lungs, tons of stuff was banging around, it was madness. So I called the cops, who hauled his ass off to jail because she had marks on her arms. He swore they had the argument because she was off her meds, but I knew he was just an abusive asshole that was lying right to my face.
For two years I took his crap. He would go out on drug deals at 3 am, peeling out of the driveway like a lunatic, spraying gravel all over my and Chris's cars. He'd blast the Grateful Dead at 5 o'clock in the morning. He'd start at one end of his apartment and jump to the other, just to make noise and be obnoxious. He broke his garbage disposal by putting a nickel in it and then used the condo money to fix it without telling anyone. He stole money from the condo fund to do who the hell knows what with. He couldn't open his mouth without bragging about something - usually himself. He was a slob who was addicted to porn. He tried to break through Chris's front door one night to beat him up. He was so mad he was spitting. He had three cats who pissed and shit all over his apartment and he didn't bother to clean it up. He took pictures of the crack whores giving blow jobs in the alley behind the house. He took pictures of the thugs out front when someone got stabbed. He wasn't making any friends in the neighborhood, but he was making a target out of our house. Everyone hated him, especially the dangerous people, and I didn't want to pay the price for it.
I put my place on the market and sold it in a day. Made $200K and was able to get the rowhouse of my dreams. No condo fee. No one upstairs. No roommate. No bullshit. Just me, my cat and my fish. I've been here for five years and am still as happy as the day I moved in.
At closing, the couple I sold my condo to tried to shave $25K off the price because I 'misrepresented the square footage.' I didn't. My real estate agent did. I was fuming mad and my mom heard me say "fuck" for one of the first times ever. I ended up giving them $7K and said 'take it or leave it.' Isn't karma a funny thing? They treated me like dirt and then inherited one of the dirtiest, meanest, foulest guys on earth.
If you're wondering what happened to Ben and Amy - well, Amy moved out in the middle of the night when Ben was out of town. I guess her mom came and they snuck away into the night. Good for her. At least now she'll live. As for Ben, he sure got his own. He was eventually evicted from the building - by the bank. His freelance world caved in all around him and he couldn't pay any of his bills. He must not have been able to keep his drug deals going either... As far as I know he's out roaming the streets somewhere and I don't feel an ounce of pity for him.
The couple that bought my place tried to get out of there shortly after they moved in. Didn't take them long to realize what they'd gotten themselves into. But by then the market had changed. There was no way they were going to get anywhere near what they paid, so in desperation to get away from Ben they left it behind as a rental.
Chris got married and moved in with his wife, I think. He was a funny guy who hopefully is doing well.
When I first moved into my condo, my real estate agent gave me a present - a sketch of the outside of the house. Today, it's still in a locker in my basement. I have a hard enough time even driving by my old place without cringing, so why have a constant reminder of it on the wall?
Mark my words. I will never, as long as I live, ever, ever, never, ever, ever live in a condo again. That shit's for the birds.
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