Fear Isn't All It is Cracked Up to Be

The other day, I had an interesting conversation with a neighbor. This beautiful, Godly woman told me she is motivated by fear. Fear of financial failure, fear of being homeless, fear of not having enough, fear of disappointing her children, family and friends. I marveled at her insight to know this about herself. And later that day I realized I recognized myself in her description. Eek!

My husband, the happy-go-lucky guy that he is, lets me do the fretting. If I say something like, "We are on the brink of disaster," he will (rightly) say, "Why are you planning for that?" He is little Marty Sunshine.

One of the areas I had some clarity from my conversation with my neighbor was when it comes to Mr. Smith (which is his real name). I tolerated Mr. Smith's annoyances because I have been motivated by fear. Fear of him doing damage to my property and to my reputation.

But then I got to thinking. After all the garbage I have gone through with Wayward, I had to laugh. Is there anything he can possibly do to this house that I haven't seen before? Puleeze! Been there, done that. Got the voodoo doll of Alpha Adjuster to prove it.

Last July, when handed the foreclosure notice, Mr. Smith called me, offering me a solution he thought was viable. I agreed to it, knowing he was buying time. I went along with it not because I believed he would perform. Instead, I knew I had Wayward's home on the deck. I knew my resources were being stretched if I took on his house and Wayward's. His mortgage payment is significantly less. He could wait.

The day he offered the solution, he said, "If we can't make it, we will pack up and leave on August 1. You won't have to evict me. I promise." Well, it is August 31 and he is still there. Glory, (former tenant number 1), confirmed that yesterday. She called me from his driveway, with Mr. Smith peering out the window. Glory thought it was funny. She has met Mr. Smith before.

The eviction process was started last month. If the courts don't screw up, it will probably go until early October, when the sheriff comes over with a couple of inmates and a box of trash bags. They will then take the Neptune washer and dryer, the 60 inch high-def television and all of their other worldly belongings and move them to the front yard.

I have fantasized about being there, sitting on a lawn chair, sipping wine and watching the action. Perhaps I can even drag Trusted along. He would be great company. Mr. Smith once threatened Trusted. Trusted laughed at him when it happened--which was not the affect Mr. Smith was going for. But, it pretty much set the tone for the dynamic between them.

In my fantasy, I will watch the inmates take his belongings out and I will give Mr. Smith a friendly wave as he walks out. I will be secure in the secret knowledge that he will pay me. I will file a judgement against him. I am going to garnish his wages. I am looking forward to this.

One way or another, Mr. Smith will be out of my life. He might trash my house. Then again, he might not. And, if he goes that route, I have insurance. And I have Legal Eagle. He might trash my name. But, does anyone really take him seriously?