Archive | January, 2013

The Tale of the Bathroom That Never Gets Used

3 Jan

My friend Mikki recently moved into a new house. Tonight she texted me saying she found approximately 20 cat litter containers scattered about the house, all filled with water, left by the previous owners. She said that though it was creepy it was nothing compared to the horror that we discovered moving into our first house nearly 5 years ago.

Storytime, bitches.

Kevin and I moved into our house in July of 2008.  We had previously lived in an apartment.  Now, if you have lived in an apartment before, you will know that in order to get your full deposit back, you have to clean the hell out of your place.  Our apartment had very strict instructions on what to clean.  For example, we didn’t get something like $20 back because I had forgotten to dust a few baseboards.  Seriously strict.  So, when we moved into our house, we expected it to be pretty clean.

It was not.

I mean, granted, it was not completely filthy and disgusting, but it was not sparkling clean either.  For instance, there were a ton of crumbs in that drawer underneath the oven.  And that is gross because they’re not YOUR crumbs, they’re some other random person’s crumbs.

Anyway, I knew that the previous owner of our house was a single male, and I made the assumption at that point that I was going to find a lot random grossness everywhere.  Also, our house had not been lived in for about 6 months so it was in need of a good scrubbing.  In anticipation of that, I took a week off of work to thoroughly clean every single room before we moved all of our belongings in.

Throughout the week, I purposely avoided cleaning the small bathroom directly off of our master bedroom.  I knew this was the bathroom the previous owner primarily used, and I was not looking forward to cleaning it.  Occasionally I would go in there, sniff around for a second, look in horror at the state of the toilet, and retreat as quickly as possible.


Finally, the house was thoroughly vaccuumed, sanitized, disinfected, scrubbed, washed down, wiped down, and dusted.  Every room except the tiny bathroom of doom.  I had no choice.  I had to go in there.  “Just like ripping off a Band-Aid, Dawn,” I thought to myself.  “Just do it already.”

So I yanked my yellow rubber gloves up to my elbows, grabbed a bottle of bleach, and stepped gingerly into the bathroom.

“My God,” I immediately thought.  “It frigging stinks in here.  Like mustiness and pee and…” I shook my head.  I didn’t care to think too deeply about what exactly I was smelling.

I cautiously cleaned the toilet, and then recleaned it for good measure.  I scrubbed out the shower, mopped the tile, and wiped down the walls and floorboards.  I took a little break and then went back in one last time to put paper liners in the drawers and cabinets of the vanity.  “This hasn’t been as bad as I thought it was going to be!” I said to myself.  “I was scared for nothing.”

And then I opened the drawer of the vanity.

In it lay a horrible sight.  It took me a few seconds to realize what I was looking at.  “Is that…?”

Yes.  Yes it was, in fact, a drawer…




We are not talking one or two rogue fingernails that may’ve accidentally flown into the drawer.  This jackass actually clipped his fingernails into the drawer and left them there.  We are talking hundreds of nails.  Maybe thousands.

So I did what any normal human being would do.

I lost my ever-loving mind.





And to this day I refuse to use that bathroom.