Good God I Hope That's Urine

My friend Ann moved recently. They are renting the house they moved into, just until they find the perfect house to buy.

The agreement they had with their new landlord was they would move in on Monday, they could be there by 5:30 p.m. and the house would be clean and ready for them. The following is our conversation as she is walking through her new house.

Ann: "So, we get here, and the last tenant is still living here."

Me: "No way."

Ann: "Yeah, apparently, we completely surprised her. Like OH YEAH we show up places on time, sorry about that."

Me: "Haha too funny."

Ann: "Oh I am not done yet. No no no. This story is so much worse."

Me: "Uh oh."

Ann: "She didn't pack. She didn't clean. She didn't do ANYTHING."

Me: "Crap. That sucks."

Ann: "It gets worse. She bought food, like, two years ago, put in the fridge, and then promptly forgot to plug in the fridge or open it again."

Me: "EWWWWW"

Ann: "There was something LIVING IN THE MILK. Like an animal or something. There is something dead under the carpet in the enclosed porch. Or, at least I hope it's dead, otherwise it's dying a slow, smelly death."

Me: "Dude, that's gross as hell!"

Ann: "Right?! It gets worse. Someone has OBVIOUSLY been smoking heavily in the house, and they have had pets. I am also fairly confident that they have never cleaned. EVER."

Me: "Holy crap dude."

Ann: "And that's just the FIRST FLOOR. The second floor, which is just our bedroom? Yeah, it's full of overflowing ashtrays, beer bottles, weapons, and what I can only hope is jars of urine."

Me: **too stunned to talk**

Ann: "YEAH. And it smelled. Everything smelled so bad. And the sink didn't work."

Me: "Wait. Wait. What kind of weapons? JARS OF URINE?!?!"

Ann: "Swords and knives and shit. Yeah. I know. Dude, my hands barely have skin left on them from all the bleach. I ran around spraying it out of the jugs like Leatherface with the chainsaw. It was bad. Really, really bad."

So yeah, you know it had to be bad if she was hoping it was urine!