A “carriage house”, in the backyard of some rich couple who were the landlords. I split it with a buddy. Open holes to the outside that we patched with duct tape. The entire thing listed to one side. It smelled like mold. Zero insulation or climate control of any kind. Landlord still stole food from our fridge when we were away.

My first apartment was pretty cheap, for very good reasons.

-18 sq meters.

-Heating appliance really too big, with a very loudy ignition, and nearly impossible to keep on during windy weather.

-It was under the roof and the intercom did not work, so i had to get down all the stairs to know who just ringed to me.

-The floor cracked at every step.

-My direct neighbor were borderline-rednecks.

Racoon sex attic house.

piss and nicotine soaked walls that, after a hot shower, would be running sticky yellow.

The back wall of the house was slowly separating from the rest of the house. There was a 1cm gap where the wall met the ceiling in the back room.

The back yard was rocks and 4ft tall weeds. I cut them all down with a combo of machete and weed Wacker day one and a year later that pile of weeds had yet to decompose. It was just a huge wet pile of slime that refused to rot away.

Neighbors had about 7 webcams pointing out of their front window at whoever walked past the house. They had bible phrases painted on the fence and front of the house as well. I walked over to say hi a few days after moving in an no one ever answered the door. In three years, I saw an occupant of that house ONCE, which was a teenager that knocked on my door at 3am to ask me if I had a lighter. I watched him walk back to that house after I said no.

135 Tyndall Ave, Toronto. As some graffiti I saw nearby said “King and Duff is mad rough”.

Move-in day I had what I’m fairly certain was a drug dealer got into a fight with me.

The elevator license was about a year expired, so I refused to use it. Walking up 7 stories wasn’t too big a deal, except that the stairwell was usually home to a few meth heads indulging in their habit.

Frequently I would find homeless people sleeping in the halls outside my unit, often having to wake them up so I could get inside my own home.

My roommate and I used to hang out on our balcony and look at the people below and try to guess whether they were drug addicts, prostitutes, or former patients from the mental health institution the government had shut down a few years prior (many ended up homeless).

That doesn’t even begin to touch on the bedbugs, roaches, and pigeon problems that building had, or the bi-weekly fire alarms.

I got out of there within 6 months. Absolute hell. The area has a very large Tibetan population, and I do miss seeing the monks and prayer flags though.

I’ll bite. Austin, TX circa 2007. Sublet. Moved my (now) wife and one year old into a one bedroom, one bathroom house the size of a shoebox. Cooled by a single window unit, had to steal wifi, and roaches crawled in through the gaps under the doors.

Ironically, it’s now a fond memory. First place I lived with my new family, it was just for the summer, we had cool neighbors and were like 200 feet from a bunch of really cool local businesses.

Student at university shared the 2br. house with 4 other dudes, in Poughkeepsie NY in the mid 90s, 2 who lived there originally had the bedrooms, me and one guy got the dining room we dividend with furniture, milk crates & curtains… everyone had a good time in the living room hearing me and one of my dates fucking…like the entire crew and their friends lined up like judges at a field sporting event

The bathroom was always wet… every surface

the boiler would often shut down, freezing us…most of the time on the weekends when we couldn’t get it running again

prostitutes would walk up to our door

the oil pipe to the boiler leaked outside

2 dogs & a snake as well, nothing in the fridge except garlic and weed (how my friend paid for his college tuition)