Trashed

I spent Friday afternoon driving from New Jersey to the Hamptons sans dogs.

Judy was a delight--not failing me on AC, gas, or threatening to break down. I have a profound fear of flat tires--specifically of getting a flat tire and having to call AAA only to realize I don't have a spare and being stranded on a bridge or in a tunnel the entire time. Thankfully, none of that happened.

However when I arrived at the house, which I had unsuspectingly rented out for a prom party to a group of ridiculous kids from North Babylon High School, was completely trashed. I had been duped by a young lady who claimed to be over 21 (supplying me with a photocopy of her licensce and signing a liability release form) seeking a rental for herself and some cousins from upstate to have a family reunion.

As Murphy's Law would have it, my faithful cleaning lady had cancelled on me due to her son suffering from illness and her motherly duties taking precedence. Sucked for me more than that kid...I assure you.

The entire indoors reeked of cigarrettes and stale alcohol. The floors were sticky especially in the kitchen and dining room. The lawn was littered with beer bottles, condom wrappers, and styrofoam remnants of what held Perdue Chicken Breasts. Hot dog buns falling from the chandelier in the foyer as well as a few strategically thrown buns atop the 12-foot high closet top.

Neither Zayan nor I could figure out a way of getting those down until Jo arrived on Saturday afternoon and suggested we mount the step stool we'd been using atop the hall dresser and use the long reach feather duster to push the bread onto the ground.

Z cleaned the outside while I worked on the inside including mopping--something I have never done before--and the liberal use of Lysol wipes. We were done in roughly two hours except for one room which had four, fist-sized holes in the wall. Thankfully, Sam came out on Saturday--he's Z's fashion photographer/set designer friend from Williamsburg. He escorted me to Wal-Mart where we purchased spackle, netting, a putty knife, and paintbrushes (only $25) and showed me how to fix such household problems without availing myself of the expensive services of a Hamptons handyman.

Thankfully, I had already collected a $1000 security deposit which the kids had already e-mailed to say I should keep for the damage.