I really ought to stop whining about the stuff that my landlord left in the house when we moved in. Last year when I moved into my last apartment, I found in my bedroom: one nice men's slipper (but only one! or I would definitely be wearing them, and tripping all over the place):
a huge suitcase
15 old subscription inserts for the New Yorker
two ironing boards
and this poster:
It's actually kind of a funny/cute/kitschy poster, but to look at it curling off my boring white walls in the August heat just made me feel nauseous.
Don't even get me started on what was in the rest of the house... strange condiments left over from old subletters, Scando-Slavica Supplement, about 3 modems, the dreaded cat-hair covered floor cushions, broken appliances, a backlog of (never-used?) cleaning supplies, and fake blood on the walls. At least it was entertaining.