What is a woman to do when her own home is a cluttered train wreck and she has absolutely nothing to do with her days? Why, head over to her ex-husband’s house to give it a woman’s touch, of course. Gabriella can’t help herself, as she considers George to be an idiot who needs a supreme caretaker, and relishes in the opportunity to supervise his life and control his dealings, along with all of his stuff. This would be fine and dandy if it only affected George, but ever since he opened his front door far and wide to anyone needing a cheap place to stay, Gabriella’s meddling affects everyone else too. Every time her car is seen coming up the driveway a communal cringe occurs, with the initial thought generally being “Oh dear God, what is she going to fuck with this time?”
Growing envious of George’s ongoing success as a slumlord, Gabriella decided to try her hand at becoming a slumlady just the same by renting out the spare bedroom in her home, one that only the most desperate of drifters might consider. Though Gabriella’s house was described as a cluttered train wreck, that might be an insult to clutter and train wrecks everywhere. Showings took place, and word quickly spread throughout the rental community’s gossip mill that the following features were noticed.
The room for rent was upstairs, which was in fact just one big crap collection area, or “storage”, as Gabriella called it. Picture a living space approximately thirty feet long by twenty feet wide, boxes piled four and five high throughout, with a pathway running down the middle leading to a bed at the far end of the room. The bed had been cleared for use, as evidenced by the boxes surrounding the bed reaching up to the ceiling. There was a closet, but it was packed with more treasures. As any prospective tenant would be needing some space for clothes and personal belongings, a small chest was graciously fitted under one of the stacks of boxes, and a portable hotel clothes bar some two feet wide was wedged into a small opening.
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