We're moving in! And we're gonna fix up as we go!
HAHAHAHAHA OMIGOD POLISSA, YOU'RE KILLING ME HERE!
Even if you have skills, and tools, adequate money, an able body, a vehicle that can haul a cache of scavenged free materials at a moment's notice, friends or family who can lend their expertise, and a solid plan for what needs to be done in roughly what order, living in a house and fixing it up as you go is anever-ending series of headaches and frustrations.
I've done it. Two years after moving into my current house, I'm still doing it. Trust me, having to remove everything from the kitchen or living room, put up barriers to keep the cats out, and complete a flooring install on your own before you can put your household back in order and live like a proper human again is a pain in the ass. Pulling out a window to replace it, only to discover rot in the framing surrounding it (and realizing it's probably also in the other two windows on that same wall), requiring YET ANOTHER trip to Home Depot for lumber to replace it and whatever you forgot on the last trip? Fuck my life.
And I'm somebody who actually
enjoys doing all this DIY stuff, and the problem-solving involved, and is good at it. I can't imagine how bad it's going to be for a pair of legit retards with no tools, no skills, and not even enough brains between the two of them to shift an AC unit so it doesn't rot the wall beneath it.
Fixing up El Basurero as they go is going to be a total fucking disaster, and I am so here for it. Pop that corn; bust out the lawn chairs; this is gonna be a real show, y'all.
Without cause - presumably in this case, if someone is just a terrible tenant who the landlord just doesn't want to continue renting to - the landlord has to wait for the lease to run out.
I initially thought they were getting evicted—and hey, maybe they are; there are certainly grounds for it. But it really could be as simple as the landlord deciding he's had enough of them, and deciding not to renew their lease, which is still basically an eviction, but with a lot less paperwork.
I doubt it. I remember that Polissa begged to get the power turned on. I feel like the plumbing was also mentioned at one point, but I'd have to check. Regardless, that's definitely not on Polly and Joh's list of concerns:
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They likely don't have a way to flush the toilet after taking a shit, but at least Joh can grill and go play in the woods like the manchild he is. Thank the Lord.
I expect the trailer shares a well with her grandmother's house, so I'm sure there's water. Evidently, the plumbing has held up well enough to still be functional, because you know Polly would be mooing about it if it weren't.
And she did get power turned on a few months ago, financed, no doubt, by the Bank of Mom. So basic utilities are in place.
As for a septic drainage field, the only big concern I can think of is tree roots growing into the drainfield pipes and clogging them. We'll see what happens once she's really moved in and running lots of water every day. Also, if the septic tank itself is steel, it's probably rusted out; they only last 15-25 years, and the trailer's been there at least 25-30 years by now. I mean, it would be really
terrible if Polissa fell through the corroded top of the tank while walking across it (yes, this happens).
That said, Josh's, "I've got...a whole bunch of woods to go hide and play in!"—what the fuck kind of grown man says that? That's 10-year-old boy talk. But then again, this is Josh, so...
I came back just in time for her to finally move into the stinky dirty mould trailer! I'm so excited I'm about to watch her move into worse squalor of her own volition in real time.
She's moving into a moldy tin can that has exposed particle board subfloors in at least two of the main rooms, and she's moving in with eleven cats. She'd better seal those floors well and get those sticky tiles slapped down right quick, because cat piss and particle board are a bad, bad combo. Still, you know she'll do a shitty job of it with cheap tiles, and the cat pee will eventually seep through them and rot out the subfloor. Which begs the question: who are you going to blame when you fall through your own damned floors, Polissa?
