My roommates and I moved into our beautiful home (which we lovingly call Wayne Manor) in August. August 5th, to be precise. On Sept. 1, LESS THAN A MONTH LATER, we were informed by the property management people that the owner of the home, Mark (aka SATAN'S RIGHT-HAND-MAN) is putting the house on the market.
"It's not going to be a problem for you at all. All you have to do is put the lock box on the door when you leave."
Of course, the first image that ran through my mind was of some pervo going through my underwear drawer and sniffing my panties.
Needless to say, it HAS been a pain in the ass ever since then, and of course, the market is starting to pick up so we have people calling all the time about the stupid house, which we are too poor to buy ourselves, but rich enough to pay some other dude's mortgage, which really chaps my ass, too. And the broker NEVER gives us the 24-notice which the lease specifically states we get. Of course, when I complain about it, we are noted as "The Problem Renters" and probably have a huge red mark on our file at the property management place.
All I want is to be able to watch 24 in my pajamas without having to worry when someone is going to knock on my door to snoop through my shit.