They Tried to Charge Us a $10,000 “Cleaning Fee” for a House That Was Spotless—So We Left Them With a Smart Home That Had a Mind of Its Own

My name is Valerie, and until last year, I thought the hardest part of selling our dream home was saying goodbye. It turns out the real challenge was dealing with buyers who believed a purchase agreement came with a personal servant. Jonathan and I had spent three years perfecting our smart home; it was a palace for us and our two pampered dogs, Muffin and Biscuit. When we finally moved, we left the place pristine—professional deep cleaning, duct sanitization, the works.

Three weeks later, the “shakedown” arrived in the form of a letter. The new owner, Mrs. Campbell, claimed our “stinky dogs” had ruined the carpets and that she couldn’t meditate without nausea. She demanded $10,000 for replacements, signed off with a “Namaste,” and her husband added that the “smell” disrupted his hot yoga recovery. Our realtor confirmed the house smelled like “success and lemon Pledge,” but Jonathan had a better idea than just arguing.

We had never disconnected from the smart home app.

That night, the digital revenge began. At 2 a.m., Jonathan raised the thermostat three degrees. The next night, he dropped it to arctic levels. Soon, the Campbells were shrieking about “scorching nights” and “polar vortexes.” Mrs. Campbell wailed to her yoga instructor that the house was possessed by “dog spirits” and that her chakras were misaligned. While she burned sage in every room, her husband eventually retreated to the garage to protect his “masculine energy flow.”

They hired three HVAC technicians, none of whom could find a “glitch.” It took three weeks before they finally reset the system, ending our reign of thermal terror. Months later, I ran into a frazzled Mrs. Campbell at the grocery store. As she muttered about still feeling a “presence,” I simply smiled and said, “Maybe next time you’ll think twice before demanding $10K for imaginary dog smells.” Back home, Jonathan raised his mug to our legendary “ghost dogs.” Sometimes karma needs a little help—and in our case, it came in the form of a thermostat app and a husband with a wicked sense of justice.