How I Spent My Summer Vacation

As I sit in my hotel room, showered, fed, I have been reflecting on my day. Today being my first full day in Birmingham.

This morning, I met Carolsue at the Fultondale home. The folks that moved out didn’t leave it as clean as I was hoping. Mind you, it isn’t bad. I certainly have seen worse. But, they left behind two years of fingerprints and dust. They didn’t own a working vacuum either.

My biggest complaint is they apparently didn’t know you are supposed to turn off the water to the washing machine before disconnecting. So there is a slight flood in the utility room—which is concrete. However, it spilled slightly into the downstairs den, which is carpet. I really should be more upset about this, but I am way too tired right now.

At the Fultondale home, I met three neighbors. The most curious of these folks came by early to ask Carolsue if she could have the potted plants left outside (which, now that I think of it is a bit nervy). I suppose this was her way of finding out the dirt on my tenants who left, as she actually returned the plants later that morning when I showed up. She then spent time hanging out with us looking for more information.

The other neighbors seemed much less nosy, with the guy behind this house giving me lots of details about the neighborhood Halloween customs and the neighbor two doors down innocently asking Carolsue if she was my mother. Here’s a quick tip, if you are ever in a situation where you are going to poke fun at Carolsue’s age, don’t do it when she is standing close enough to bop you. And no, Carolsue is NOT old enough to be my mother.

After Fultondale, we hightailed it across town (which in this case is 14.84 miles) to Mrs. Martin’s former home. True to her word, she moved. And, she left the place pretty clean too. Except every room is painted some sort of hideous color. For example, the kitchen is red. The master bedroom (which apparently was—I hope—where her daughters slept) is purple, yellow, pink and has a Bratz wall boarder. The kitchen flooring is in sad shape from years of wear and tear. The carpet is debatable. There is a red stain on the carpet that I think I made worse when I went to clean it. It is now pink and bigger.

While at Mrs. Martin’s former home, we met the neighbor. The neighbor dragged his son over with a friendly suggestion that Junior was out of college for the summer and for the love of all things holy could we please put him to work and get him off the couch?

This kid, by the way, looks just like Judge Reinhold’s character, Billy, in Beverly Hills Cop. Billy is now doing the lawn, changing out the locks and he took the children’s sandbox located on the upper deck of Mrs. Martin’s former home and drug it to the curb for me.

I also called James, the former hell's angel turned carpet guy for a quote for the kitchen vinyl and carpet for the rest of the home. James has already gotten back to me with his super-inexpensive quote (cash only). Someday I am going to ask James how he is able to get quality carpet at low prices. Come to think of it, I probably don't want to know.

After Carolsue and I parted ways, I ran over to the local hardware store and purchased new door locks, Kiltz and a few supplies. Carolsue is handling most of the supply gathering, as getting the homes ready to rent out really her job. But, my hope was that if I could get a jump on covering some of the obnoxious colors at Mrs. Martin’s former home she might be able to turn that place around faster.

It took me two and a half hours to use up one can of Kiltz on the red kitchen. The kitchen is now pink. It turns out that painting in the humidity is very different than painting in the desert. Paint actually rolls off the walls instead of sticking to the walls! And, paint tends to be more runny than thick. Not only that, in the desert, you can paint a wall and then roll on another coat five minutes later. If you try that in the humidity, the paint on the wall will stick to the roller. Thus again proving everything happens much slower in the South.

When I was done with the paint, I learned there is no water at Mrs. Martin’s former home. But I will deal with that Monday.