Well, to be fair, the apartment was a pretty nice one in most other respects. It was more me being not a great tenant. I wasn't rowdy or loud, but I was quite messy and terrible about keeping it clean (I still am, I got up at 6:00 AM yesterday and said I would start cleaning until I had found enough pairs of underwear to put in the laundry to tide me over until my new ones arrived, and it took me until 2:00 PM to finish. Though I was separating a lot of other stuff at the time as well.). The broken shades were probably his fault (and he did fix those) but the towel bar on the door and the couch were clearly mine. Having never had to deal with home repair, I panicked when the towel bar on the door broke off when I tripped and fell against it, and tried to super glue it back into place instead of waiting for when dad would next see me and could bring the studs and screws to fix it the right way. And the couch was the same problem I still have, remembering that, when you weigh 350+ pounds, you can't just collapse onto furniture. Yes, I was the one who had to deal with the mice, but a lot of old houses get some mice, and the fact that each Sunday I was coming back with 20 pounds of lentils or coriander to sort through for weed seeds and wasn't great about making sure all of the leftover seed made it into the bin or the garbage bag, I was sort of tempting them. And I wouldn't have had to deal with the fines if I had budgeted so that I actually HAD enough trash tags to cover my trash (those things were super expensive, like $40 for six full bag ones, and I could generate two or three full bags of trash a WEEK). I just wasn't cut out for living on my own (and my temperament and odd hours made living with a roommate impossible; I made it only about a month my freshman year with one before HE had me swap with a friend of his who had a single on the other campus.)sounds more like a slumlord than a landlord. how rotten. i've been fairly fortunate in landlords with only one being marginal.