The Apartment Needed to Be Fumigated

For a year, we had heard rumors about the apartment on the 3rd floor. The downstairs tenant whispered about the reclusive tenant.  He paid his rent on time and seemingly left anyone else alone.  I had always dismissed the gossip until a complaint from the downstairs neighbor about water leaking from her ceiling forced me to confront the mystery head-on.  I was also then legally able to enter the tenant's unit.

I made a call or two and the tenant was actually soft spoken and embarrassed but he reluctantly let me in.  I knocked on the door, hoping for a resolution to the leaking issue. After what felt like an eternity, the door creaked open, revealing a sight that made my stomach turn. The stench of stale fast food and filth hit me like a wave as I stepped into the cluttered apartment.  I've heard about hoarding and I had scene an episode or two of the same on TV.  But no one can be prepared for what was in front of me. 

Fast food bags littered every surface.  A pile of fast food bags occupied half of his computer area.  Picture him sitting at his gaming chair, eating fast food without interupting his gaming, and then throwing the debris to the side.  It was piled high against the wall in a 8x8 area that was about chest high at the top.   It was clear that the tenant's life revolved around a cycle of video games and delivery orders, with little regard for cleanliness or hygiene. Amongst the chaos, a medium-sized dog navigated through the debris.  The poor dog had no choice in the matter and my guess is that he was stuck in the apartment like his owner. 

As I navigated through the maze of trash, I couldn't help but feel sadness for the person who inhabited the space. What had led them to this point? How could someone live in such conditions without seeking help? The scene before me was a stark reminder of the invisible struggles that some individuals face, hidden behind closed doors and piles of refuse.  The tenant apologized profusely about the mess he had made and his willingness to live in such filth.  

With a heavy heart, we agreed that he'd vacate the apartment.  He did so within a few hours, actually.  So I set to work addressing the water leak.  The trash was bigger than a 1 person job so I had to hire a service.  As I left the apartment, I couldn't shake the image of the hoarder and his dog, trapped in a cycle of neglect and isolation. It was a scene I wouldn't soon forget, a reminder of the importance of compassion and understanding in a world that often turns a blind eye to the suffering of others.