Landlord Chronicles: Return to the City

Here I am, doing what others couldn't.

After relocating to my forest mansion, my four-room luxury apartment in the capital was left untouched for nearly eight months. Just three months ago, I decided to rent it out — and that’s exactly how long the tenants stayed.

I visited the place recently, only to be met with a string of damages: scratched walls, a ruined chandelier, and somehow even the balcony showed signs of brutal use. It’s a wonder what could’ve gone on in there.

After rolling up my sleeves and restoring everything to its former glory — as any responsible landlord would — I reached out to my broker for a scheduled follow-up. But instead of showing up, she ditched me for a friend’s wedding. That’s not just unprofessional; that flips the table entirely — now it’s her who owes me some respect.

To ensure the apartment doesn’t fall into disrepair again, I handed the keys over to a trusted friend. He’ll be watching over it and acting as the broker’s point of contact going forward.

And after all that? I drove across half the country back to my secluded forest retreat — where I now sit, writing this entry, sore but satisfied.

— The Landlord in the Woods