Day 1 in Washington: The Lady's Not For Cleaning

I have arrived in one piece in my apartment in Washington, neatly dodging an accident half a block north which must have occurred just minutes after we arrived and necessitated closing off the street and ending with fireworks over the river (couldn't see them from my balcony, but I sure could hear them.  Someone tell me, why do we have fireworks on August 27th?).  We had a lovely dinner at a huge seafood restaurant on the river (just blocks away) and got inside the shiny new Safeway.  I have only one complaint: cleaning.

How can I put this kindly?  My apartment is...not clean.  The kitchen is the most egregious offender - the cabinets are sticky, the refrigerator dusty with brown gunk in the bottom, the broiler pan in the oven ashen, and the front of the dishwasher, and the wall, stained.  I refuse to put any of my food or dishes inside the cabinets until I have thoroughly disinfected them, and the only reason anything is in the fridge is because it's been given the once-over with Clorox wipes.  It appears, further, that someone has waxed the linoleum floor, thus trapping dirt underneath the wax, so the only way to get it clean is to strip the floor.  Ditto in the bathroom (except it's tile), and both the plug in the sink and the bathtub are broken and unusable, the floor behind the toilet dirty, and the door refuses to shut.  The windows are smudged, the curtain rods missing (who rents an apartment without curtains?!), the purple accent wall is unevenly painted, and the mirrors on the mirrored wall (yes, I know, cringe) are cockeyed. 

I had intended to write something much more mild-mannered than that, but I am not happy.  The fact of the matter is that all of this, with perhaps the exception of the paint and the mirrors, should have been taken care of before I moved in.  I do not believe that this apartment was cleaned in any sort of thorough manner.  So never mind that I need to get furniture - apparently I also have to spend a couple of days cleaning the place first.  I am very grateful that my parents are here to help, but I can't imagine that they're enjoying this any more than I am.  I do not mean to simply recite a litany of complaints, but I don't think I should have to do this kind of work.  Now I'm going to go to bed, so I have enough energy tomorrow to continue this ordeal.  Once the cleaning is done I imagine I'll be a lot happier, but for the time being this is definitely a Trial and Tribulation.