The first place I lived in Urbana was a retired professor's house. Actually, the house was terrific. But the deal was miserable. Instead of paying rent for my tiny room -- large closet is more like it -- I was expected to keep the place clean. This might not have been so bad, since I was practiced at household chores.
The problem was that Prof. and Mrs. Windesheim were, in my estimation, utter and complete slobs. It took them less than a day to turn the whole establishment into a cyclonic mess. He was very impressed with himself -- his field had been speech -- and she was apparently spoiled and accustomed to being waited on hand and foot. Cornballs with airs, I thought.
I didn't last long: one semster, and the whole time was hell. I was used to hard work, but indentured servitude was not my thing, and I got out of there at the first opportunity.