Gone But Not Forgotten

Mr. Smith is gone. There is a big notice posted on his door from the sheriff telling him to get out and announcing the amount of money he owes me. Carolsue graciously kept the note up when she went by today so the entire neighborhood could see it.

Where is Mr. Smith you might wonder? He high-tailed his Neptune washer and dryer right across the street. Seriously. Across the street. He can stand on his front porch and look at his former front porch.

I don't know about you, but having the sheriff's big get out sign attached the to door where he used to live can't be much fun for him. As Carolsue--who has a great grasp on human nature--explained, every neighbor around there must have snuck over after dark to read it and find out about Mr. Smith's situation. They will also see his junk--which he graciously left--piled up at the curb on trash day.

What did Mr. Smith leave me: a mess. The walls have urine on them. He left filthy diapers in the closets. He took the light switch plates. He bashed in the interior doors (which screams of domestic violence. I have seen this before in empty houses. It is very sad). There is trash on the inside and out. There is magic marker on the walls. There is siding missing where he was doing something to the exterior deck. The missing siding exposes the interior walls. There is a ton of trash Andy, my convicted-murderer-lawn-guy (I will never tire of writing that), will have to haul away.

Although somewhat discouraging, this is nothing compared to what Wayward left me. And, I can take a modicum of satisfaction in knowing Mr. Smith's neighbors can see first-hand what a deadbeat he really is.