Day 65 – March 6th

National Oreo Cookie Day was the first day back in our real home after the Prostitenent vacated it (having spent our time since National Pig Day in Dunville, Melvin’s hometown and where all the services for him were held).

It was a bloody, fucking state.

No one in their right minds would have given her back her damage deposit in full. Lucky for her, we were not in our right minds. Well played, sociopathic hooker, well played.

A brief rundown of what we could have and should have deducted:

  • The extra day – she should have been out Feb 28, not March  1 at 3:38pm
  • Cleaning – baseboards and mouldings were filthy, toilet uncleaned, surfaces, floors, windows, oven was untouched.
  • Melted candle wax all over mantle and mirror
  • Tear in Ralph Lauren sofa
  • Holes in living room wall and upper hallway wall
  • Major long dent and paint chipping in bedroom – whole wall needs to be repainted
  • Towels and linens are now all orange, presumably from spray tan
  • Front door needs to be repainted because of wreath hook she stuck on
  • Broken irreplaceable vintage lamps
  • Paint damage to spindles
  • Missing back door key – lock now needs to be replaced considering the nature of her profession and the company kept
  • Throw cushions from couch left on lawn furniture all fall and winter
  • Coffee maker pot smashed
  • Dog shit all over backyard

Left behind, in the house she insisted was immaculate and thoroughly gone through, were:

  • a CK duffle bag full of raunchy bikinis and tacky purses
  • a new with tags Aldo clutch still in it’s cellophane
  • a bag of plastic nozzle thingies (?) presumably for her make up business
  • a framed professional photo of her grandparents house with an inscription on the back from her parents (she will be in touch about this – bet my life on it)
  • a souvenir carved wooden mask…with glitter
  • lawn chair
  • condoms (stored in lounge) {just grateful she’s not procreating}
    N.B :
    The Prostitenant also ‘returned’ additional cut copies of the key to the front door which operates on a 4 digit code. She was fanatical about changing the code when she moved in but never did and also never learnt it (further explanation here) .
    This is a person too damn stupid to memorize 4 number code and would rather drive to a lock smith and pay the 3$ to get a key cut instead to give to her pimp/boyfriend (or call me 11 times in the middle of the night for it  ).

I went for lunch with my friend Allyson and vented non stop about how bullied I felt and weak I feel for letting her treat us the way she did.
I should never have answered the phone and left it at “Landlords have 15 days to return damage deposits – we are at a wake -have some respect” and turned both our phones off.

There is nothing that can be done about the past… if there was, I sure as hell wouldn’t  waste the opportunity to time travel on her.

Back to Oreos.

Allyson graciously drove me to a store to buy Oreos and bleach to disinfect every square inch of our whore house.  I bought Double Stuff and Extra Strength, respectively. Thanks Allyson!

When I got home at probably close to 4 pm, Herman was still in bed. This was no surprise.

I was panged with guilt for all the times Duncan was able to reap the benefits of my celebratory projects and Herman was left behind in Newfoundland, neglected.

 

So I gave the poor old fellow an Oreo. Happy Oreo Day, Hermie, hope it doesn’t kill you!

I also made an Inukshuk

And ate a couple myself, while dressed a lot like an Oreo

And then did my usual staging

I consider this a day well celebrated indeed.

 

 

 

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