The Holiest Man in Birmingham

So, what is the worst house someone ever left me? Wayward's isn't a fun experience. And it certainly had the most damage. But, as the contractor said today, "it isn't that bad." True. Sinks aren't too expensive. That said, I haven't gotten the estimate yet either.

Several years ago when Baseball Guy moved out, The Good Pastor moved in. One of the things the Good Pastor stressed to me was how important his work was. This was his calling. This was his life. He was to feed the masses the good Word.

The Good Pastor was nothing short of a pain in my neck from about the second month of his tenancy on. The main difference between he and Mr. Smith, is I wasn't as jaded back then and The Good Pastor didn't pretend to like me. Looking on the bright side, The Good Pastor essentially wrote the crib notes in my play book. About a year ago, he was my first eviction. I wasn't sorry to see him go.

I had a couple of tenants--including Baseball Guy and Carolsue--drive by and keep an eye on the place for me, waiting to give me the word that they were gone. The curtains were drawn, and according to the power and water companies, the utilities were still on. So, by law, it was still occupied. This went on for about three weeks. Finally, during one of my trips to Birmingham Trusted and I traipsed over there, jaunted around to the back yard where I broke into the house to find it newly abandoned.

The Good Pastor and his wife did not damage the house. But, they left all their worldly trash behind. They left the peanut butter on the counter. There were unpaid bills from a variety of sources crammed into every drawer. Some bills even dating from a year earlier. There were piles of clothing all over the floor. In fact, to go through the house, one had to walk between piles of clothes, toys, kitchen utensils, electronic gadgets, paper trash and books. It is amazing to me all the stuff people have that they deem important enough to put in their homes until it is time to leave.

Handyman #1 actually cleaned up the place. It took him two days, two cans of roach spray and more than 100 trash bags to get everything over there in ship-shape.

The Good Pastor, who it turns out was living in the tax-payer subsidized housing in downtown Birmingham, got wind that his belongings were being tossed out and immediately contacted me asking for everything back. I didn't really want to oblidge. It meant drawing out my relationship with The Good Pastor even longer. However, Legal Eagle, my evictions attorney, told me I really didn't have a choice. It was his stuff.

So, one morning Handyman #1 met The Good Pastor out at the house. The guy showed up in a brand new Cadillac Escalade. A vehicle so new that the plate and tags were not on it yet. He took two bags of junk, the clothes dryer and high-tailed it back out. Leaving the rest of his children's toys, family's clothes and other worldly belongings out at the curb.