The neighbor who minds the house called and asked if I like the house. I said no, it is a shit box. Those weren't quite the words but that was the jist. She asked what was wrong and I launched into a whirlwind of complaints - the gross smelling furniture, weak A/C, uncollected garbage, dirty area rugs, patio furniture with the wheels falling off.

A minute later the neighbor was in the house on my cell phone. She called the owner's parents. They were all on their way to an Alaskan cruise. Dare I ask - with my rent money?

There ensued a flurry of phone conversations back and forth. Me with the owner's parents, the parents with the owner, the neighbor with the parents, the parents with the neighbor, the parents with me.

A decision was made to call in Stanley Steemer.

The neighbor made the call. The neighbor called the owner's parents. Stanley Steemer would not come without a check up front. The parents called the owner. The check was put in the mail. The parents called the neighbor, the neighbor called Stanley Steemer who will come after they receive the check.

So the furniture continues to reek.