Well, there's dirty and then's there's DIRTY. The house is fifty years old. It's small. And I swear no one has ever cleaned the place thoroughly. Example: I cleaned the living room ceiling fan and light fixture a minimum of 12 times before I could tell it was white--not a funky shade of brownish yellow. The bathroom off the bedroom is tiny. It has bright pink ceramic tile and one of those fiberglass shower stalls. How long would you guess it would take to clean a tiny bathroom? If you guessed 6 hours you'd be right.
My friend and I have spent every day during the last week cleaning and scrubbing and spraying and groaning over each new discovery of the life some people lived in that house. An unhealthy, dirty life at the least, a strange life at best. Two of the very flimsy bedroom doors have dead bolts on them. I can only wonder why--but I'm not sure I want to know.
Downton Abbey. Wonderful show but oh, the "staff envy" I have experienced is painful. I want someone to dust and clean and make delicious meals why I worry about what to wear to dinner in my English castle. You might say I'm a dreamer ... but I'm not the only one. My dear friend has been dreaming, too. We will laugh about this one day, but right now we are simply complaining--but working hard to make an unlivable house livable.
What about you? Ever lived or stayed in a place that made your skin crawl? I'd love to hear about it.