Our Stay at Dearden Way — A Story We Won’t ForgetTurning into Dearden Way, the street set the tone before we even reached the house. Front yards lined with overgrown grass and weeds… charming. As we pulled up to the property, we realised it fit right in. Weeds? Check. Long grass? Check. First impressions? Well… consistent.Inside we go, unloading the cold items.Then—bam!A pungent hit straight to the face. The fridge. A sour, stale-milk smell that practically walked out and introduced itself. We slammed the door shut, but the odour lingered like an unwelcome guest.Three wipe-downs later, still no relief. Off to the shops we go: bicarbonate, fridge deodoriser, anything to tame the beast.A long day behind us, it was finally bedtime.Except… ouch.The mattress was rock hard. “Is yours any better?”Bed to bed like Goldilocks, except every option was “too hard.” Any chance of sleep slipped away. Morning arrived with no rise-and-shine energy—just aching hips, a sore back, and a desperate need for coffee… or a chiropractor.Day two started with another dash to the shops for cheap air mattresses—because desperation sparks creativity.With daylight pouring in, the flaws did too. Crumbs in the cutlery drawer. Sticky spills on the cupboards and kickboard. Marks that clearly didn’t get the memo during the last “clean.”Sharing notes, the list grew:• Pee splashes on the bathroom wall• A blood stain on the quilt cover• Shower cubicles that looked like hist