For damn near 30 years a crazy hoarder lady rented one of my upstairs apartments. She always drove me nuts but my dad made me nice to her because she had a mental disability. It’s also why I allowed her to live there for far too long despite her being a hoarder who never cleaned her apartment or after her cats.
She became belligerent with me one day, so I called her sister and said I had reached my limit. Her family came in, cleaned out her apartment, and helped her seek medical attention. It was determined she could no longer live on her own and now she’s gone. It was actually much simpler to have her outed than I had nightmared over.
Now, however, I have another apartment in need of serious work. I’m in the process of cleaning the walls. Then I’ll have the electrical updated, fix the ceilings and paint the living room and bedroom.
The kitchen and bathtub are gutted. I’ll need a new stove, toilet, sink and vanity, as well as cupboards and a countertop. All the floors are to be replaced. From her filth, smoke, and cat neglect, near nothing can be salvaged. If you can look at it just right, the apartment itself is quite charming.