We have lived in this lovely home for nearly 2 years now. One of my roommates is unfortunate enough to have a rather nasty oil leak in their car. The roommate in question has made empty promises when confronted about tending to the eyesore reminiscent of the Exxon Valdez spill that is slowly consuming our driveway... correction: the driveway we are RENTING from some soon-to-be angry homeowner.
Time for some journalistic photos...
I think it really brings out the green in our lovely lawn. I'm sure our neighbors would agree.
I think I see a pair of dolphins frolicking in the sea.
Oh, and over there near the bottom... I see a bouquet of pretty flowers!
About 6 months ago, after hearing me nag on numerous occasions, this particular roommate did acquire a scrub brush and a bottle of degreaser from their father. These items were intended to be used on the Exxon Valdez spill prior to pressure washing it. Perhaps 4 months later, the oil spill was growing in a menacing fashion while the bottle of degreaser and scrub brush continued to sit in the garage collecting dust.
One fateful morning, I was feeling particularly motivated. I brandished the jug of cleaner, wielded the mighty scrub brush and dove straight into the black hole in front of our house.
I know it was naive of me to think that if I did the hard part of the cleanup job of the mess that is in no way, shape or form, my own, that this roommate would take the initiative to perform the remaining part of the job.
Now, 2 months down the road, the monstrosity has returned to its former stature. Hell, it may be larger, bolder and more dangerous to local wildlife than ever! At any rate, all the work I did was for naught. The damn thing needs to be degreased again before it can be pressure washed. Every second that passes allows the oil to sink deeper and deeper into the porous concrete. Every new drop that lands on top spreads the ogreish amoeba further across the face of our landlord's investment.
I can almost hear our deposit shriveling in the distance.