There is no place like home, part B

When my oldest daughter and two friends from the dorm moved into their first apartment the girls decided they needed another couple of renters to help defray the cost of rent. After interviewing prospective roommates, they chose a couple to share the extra room, that is when the trouble started.


First it was just a few dirty dishes in the sink and clutter in the living room.

Then it was a sink full of dirty dishes. My daughter started cleaning her dishes in the bathroom.


Then it was a sink  and the counter full of dirty dishes, more clutter in the living room, and loud angry arguments between the couple.  My daughter started hiding her clean dishes in her bedroom.


Then it was the sink, counter and stove top full of dirty dishes. Bags of trash and clutter on the floor, and more loud arguments, a whole punched in the wall, a bike being thrown across the room and the police called.

My daughter had told me about these things, I knew it was bad.  When I arrived to help her and one of her roommates move to a new place, I found my daughter holdup behind her closed bedroom door, under siege, a prisoner in her own apartment. Armed with an orange flyswatter to battle the pest infestation, scented candles to make the air more palatable and perfumed soaps place here and there in her clothing trying to ward off the stench.

you don't really understand it until you see it, smell it.
 

After the move and I returned to my house , I asked my daughter how things were in the new place. She said,  I sat at the kitchen table this morning and ate my Honey Bunches of Oats from a clean bowl with a clean spoon. I am so happy.

it's the little things that make a house a home.