How To Not Rent A Home

There are days I want to scream from the rooftops: if you want to rent a home, act the part.

Ok, I have that out of my system... thank you.

My friend's home is still for rent. It won't be for long. But the no pets requirement seem to have stupified many. Yes, "no pets" means the three pound dustmop dog can't live in the house or even outside in the back yard. Really. Please don't argue about it. She won't change her mind. She doesn't have to. It is her house.

And, if you casually joke about how you plan on telling the landlord you don't have pets because, "they will never know," think again. The landlord hired me to work in her best intersts. I won't keep your secret.

Aside from the pets thing, there are the weirdos. Like the guy who was dumbfounded the landlord wouldn't hold the house for him for five weeks until he was reaedy to move in. For ten minutes, the guy gave me the, "The house has been advertised for two weeks now. There is something wrong with it. Yes. They will hold it for me. And who do you think you are to tell me otherwise?" And so it went, with me shooting every ounce of outrage I had through my pores as I seethed in a voice that Marty swore sounded a bit nicer than I felt, "Look, if you don't believe me, call the landlord yourself." Which the guy did. The answer didn't change.

The clownfest on Wednesday was from an agent who sent me a cryptic e-mail from her phone. I don't know her name or her phone number. The message said her tenant could only afford the rent, not the additional $22.50 in sales tax the owner was asking for. What should they (the tenant) do?

The landlord came to the same conclusion I did: if this potential tenant can't scrape together an additional $22.50 a month, then this isn't the house for them.

The agent, undeterred by my response to her of, "the landlord has had a lot of interest in the property and is not interested in making a reduction at this time," sent me a second e-mail, this time asking for a reduction in the deposits. The agent still didn't sign her name or give me a phone number.

When I e-mailed the agent back, I pointed out how I wanted this to be a mutually pleasing transaction. For that reason, I was hesitant to suggest to the landlord that the future tenant couldn't pay a bit extra for the deposits when she had already told us the additional $22.50 was a hassle. It certainly wouldn't put her client in the best light. I did suggest, before she sent me any more questions, perhaps the tenant in question could view the home and fill out an application if they were truly interested.

I haven't heard back.

For Sale--$9,500

Jack sends me home listings that he thinks might be of interest. In his defense, he put in a series of criteria and whatever crops up, is automatically sent to me. If he had been screening his e-mails, I would have missed out on this 3 bedroom, 2 bath manufactured home gem.



The caption reads: "This home has burned completely. Seller understands property conditions and will negotiate. Verify all information to your own satisfaction."

Franny

Jack sent Franny to me as a potential tenant. Franny worked hard at good first impression. She followed up with me (thinking I was Jack) via e-mail to confirm the meeting time. She sent me the entire application, being sure to fill in everything right the first time. She sent me a picture of her bulldog at my request, because the latest euphemism for pit bull is "American Bulldog."

Franny did everything asked with a cheerful heart. She even followed up to make sure we were on the same page. Her doing so made her inappropriate job solicitation a bit more palatable. I even overlooked the fact her significant other was a pastor. I have never had good experiences with pastors in Birmingham.

Then I ran Franny's credit.

Right now everyone renting from me is low maintenance. I like that. And, I really wish to keep this as the case. But I have seen Franny's profile so many times before. The ultra-professional who wants to make a good impression but makes a terrible imprint on paper.

Jack and I discussed the situation in great length. Was she and her pastor boyfriend worth the risk? The pastor looked good on paper. He has a decent day job that will cover the rent if Franny has a hangnail and needs the money to have it surgically removed. They don't have much debt, with Franny's outstanding balances totaling less than six month's rent--which makes me wonder: why let your credit score plummet for such a small amount of debt?

When I talked with Franny, I got a story that seems plausible. She spent more than she made while in college. She made bad choices. She is working and paying off her bills. Here she is.

Franny has since found that the best things in life aren't things and surrounding yourself with stuff doesn't buy happiness. To her credit, she volunteered that she owes the money for her debts and has opted not to file bankruptcy, instead is paying them off.

All that said, when Franny and I talked, I explained nothing comes before rent. Not a hangnail. Not an overdue Verizon bill. Nothing. I did not want to be inconvenienced because she had a bad day. Rent or move. There would be no other option. I am the first bill she pays. Always.

Marty Sunshine, who at first was very against approving Franny, finally pointed out that we have had better-looking tenants on paper who turned out to be extraordinarily awful. We have taken chances on tenants with worse credit scores who turned out to be great.

So true. In the years I have done this, I have reached the conclusion: A credit score is just a number. It is character that matters.

Someone Get That Poor Girl A Map

A potential tenant sent me an e-mail about her fabulous company today. Her employer is a promotional gadgets-type company (anything with a logo). Though I didn't ask anything about her occupation other than the basics, unsolicited, she sent me the following e-mail:

We are booming! We have hit all the Northern States as far as Texas so be prepared 'cause this fad is spreading like wildfire and coming your way!

She also mentioned they are looking for sales reps, so if I wanted to make some extra cash, just let her know.

It Won't Be Vacant Long

Coming next week, I will have a vacant home. Much to Marty Sunshine's astonishment, I am bizarrely at peace. Jack, however, seems to be getting antsy.

Last week he showed our home to a couple. Jack told me they were from Argentina and had been in the states for about 15 years. He said they were well-groomed and well-mannered. He said they didn't have social security numbers, though he was sure they were self employed, with at least the wife taking cash under the table. After he showed the home, he asked me if I would give them a call and qualify them and answer any questions they might have.

I noticed Jack didn't ask if I had any questions. Before I could get a chance to see what Jack found so special about these folks, or more likely, turn them down based on Jack's description, the family decided they didn't want the home anyway.

And--just in case you ever find this blog, Jack--please understand, this sounds like trouble with a capital T. You can't garnish wages for people who don't have social security numbers or jobs. You can thank me later.

Over this past weekend, I was out in the boondocks, bonding with the cub scouts. I came home to Birmingham e-mails and voice mails. The first of several calls were from folks who didn't leave their names or couldn't do the basic necessities. Essentially, act in a way that will get me to call you back.

The calls got significantly better by the end of the messages--which made me think there might be an antidote for Jack's anxiety. As for me, I am still eerily taking this in stride. We have May's mortgage covered. I don't think this home will be vacant long. And, I suspect I can find someone who has a social security number and a regular job to rent from us.

The Waterlogged Waterford Home

Kirby, my property manager who handles my two homes in Calera e-mailed me this past Wednesday. There was some sort of air conditioning mishap at the Waterford home. The air conditioning gizmo-thingamabob leaked and now the the baby's room is flooded. There is rotted drywall and a mildewy carpet.

He said the air conditioner was fixed and the he would send me pictures. I have to say, the pictures look like rotted dry wall and the picture with the bucket of water on the floor suggests there might be a water leak.

My first thought is: how did the tenants not know there was an issue until it got to the point where the floor was saturated? Come on! The house is seven years old. The roof doesn't leak. Surely they went into the baby's room in a 12-hour time frame and might have noticed an issue. The husband is a plumber. The wife sells real estate. They know a few things about homes.

Kirby has sent me follow-up e-mails to this since then. Most of the time he was tentative, with an overall scenario of: mildewy carpet, wet drywall. He did suggest I might want to file an insurance claim. He also has brought up every single time he e-mails me that he would hate for something to happen to the baby down the road because of a mold issue.

It took me until Thursday night before I finally figured out the subtext: Kirby was assuming I wasn't going to fix the problem. He--as a property manager who probably deals with grumpy landlords on a regular basis--is used to landlords blowing a gasket when they get news like this. As a property owner, I can see where he is coming from. Personally, I don't want to replace the carpet for that room. I don't want to spend tons of money replacing drywall--and I don't know if I need to.

Friday I called Kirby. In my message I told him I am committed to getting this fixed properly. I don't know what that looks like just yet, but I won't have moldy carpet. I won't have a non-working air conditioner. And, I am committed to having satisfied tenants. Hopefully those things can be achieved without a humongous expense.

Hardened Criminal

While cleaning off my desk Wednesday, I found a love note from the IRS. Apparently I owe them $9.18 in penalties and $0.27 in interest. Their letter stated I did not owe any principle nor did I have an unpaid balance. Just the interest and penalty.

Oh, they wanted their money yesterday. Seriously, it was due on April 20.

When I looked over the paperwork, I couldn't find any reason why I owed them $9.45. Diamond Jim is out of town playing with his grandchildren this week, so I couldn't call him. And even if I could, I really wasn't up to paying $50 an hour for him to research what was bugging the IRS. I opted to call myself, but decided for the hour and a half of research that might still produce the same outcome, my time might be better spent writing a check and cutting my (alleged) losses.

Of course the irony is that the check is late, so I will end up writing a second check for $0.27 again in a couple of weeks.

Gives a Whole New Meaning to "Roll Tide"

I found this story the other day.

Crimson Tide fans welcome their new son, Crimson Tide
By Matt Hinton

Alabama fans show their unique and undying obsession with the Crimson Tide in many creative ways: Detailed reproductions of cherished moments, carefully worded stays of justice in trials, elaborate full-body tattoos, Bear Bryant-based reinterpretations of Shakespeare, offering infants to be autographed, etc. And, though they can't pass on their love via DNA (yet; the state's best gene therapists are working around the clock), they can brand their offspring with 'Bama-themed names, as the Witts of Hartselle, Ala., did with both of their boys, Tyde and Saban, in 2005 and 2007.

Not to be outdone in their devotion, J.L. and Jackie Redd of Tallassee, Ala., took the next step in January by introducing their son, Crimson Tide Redd, to the world:

The young couple made an agreement before their son's birth that J.L. could be in charge of naming the baby, wanting to use his last name, Redd, as inspiration.

"His family was extremely excited (about the name choice)," Jackie said.

"Her family couldn't understand why we'd name our child after a football team," J.L. said.

(Her family's choice? Deacon Blues.)

The new mother admits young Crimson "does already have a lot of Alabama stuff," but lest you get the idea he's destined to become the Todd Marinovich of lunatic fandom, the parents entertain no such intentions or fears. They're going to call the boy "Ty," and J.L. insists he isn't going to push his son to Tuscaloosa when Ty inevitably grows up to become a highly sought Division I prospect: "If (Auburn) offers him a scholarship, then I'll be happy for him to go there. We don't have plans to tell him who to be a fan of."

Well, obviously not. That's what the birth certificate is for. And the crimson wallpaper, and the houndstooth bedsheets, and the Jay Barker nightlight, and the "Rammer Jammer" jack-in-the-box with Mark Ingram as the clown ...

Here's the link.

Landlords R Us

I am in an interesting role of late. First, I am helping a friend find a tenant for her rental. She has certain reasonable standards. For example: no pets. Which is a great rule as far as I am concerned. In her case, she has a specific reason for this rule. But it shouldn't matter why she says no pets. It is her house. She's the boss.

She is also pretty particular about who is renting. Someone who hasn't paid their mortgage in 16 months and then feels they can somehow cough up enough every month to pay the rent doesn't exactly make a great first impression. A couple of poker buddies who need a place to crash, yet don't know each other's last names, don't sound like good long-term renters.

Monday I got a call about her home from someone who didn't impress me in the least. First, he referred to himself as "Mr. Jones." This guy was younger than me and we don't live in a culture where we refer to each other by surname. I gave him the "landlord won't rent to someone who has pets and anyone who has had an eviction" spiel and he said, "say what?!" When he passed the rest of my preliminary screening process, I had nothing left to do but pass him on to my friend, the landlord.

As a licensed agent, I can't discriminate on her behalf. I can only facilitate. Legally I can't even give her my opinion. Nor can I tell her to discriminate with bozos who use the phrase, "say what?!" She, however, can turn down the guy for a myriad of reasons. If I were the landlord I would turn him down just for his lack of manners alone.

In addition to my friend, Jack and I are working on renting out our home. Of course, we have it for sale too, but as we haven't had a lot of bites (though I hear Mr. Cummings still has some interest--so I can only pray we will get it rented before he gets around to making an offer).

Our tenant pool hasn't been real promising. Felicity called me wanting to know if we took Section 8 and was huffy when I told her no. Wanda was none-too-happy I told her I didn't take renters who have had felony convictions. Today, Jack is showing the home to two separate parties. According to him both parties fall somewhere between marginally promising to slightly appealing. Last I heard, we aren't taking pets either.

Spring is in the Air

So, Mr. Klan's son was playing ball in the street in front of the Leeds home, when the ball got away from him and landed smack into the front window of Mrs. Spring's home.

Might you remember, this is the second window Mr. Klan has broken. (The story about the first can be found here).

Mrs. Spring does what she always does when she has a crisis with her rental home. She bypasses me--the decision maker--and goes straight to Carolsue--the messenger. When Carolsue called me Saturday night I was on the phone with the Powers That Be about that thing I can't write about that is eroding my stomach lining on a logarithmic scale. So, I didn't get Carolsue's message until long after the damage was done.

In the meantime, Carolsue went on point and worked with Mrs. Spring to find a few reasonable and expedient solutions. The first one that came to Carolsue's mind was to have Mr. and Mrs. Klan pay for the damage. They said absolutely not.

Now, I know that if Buckaroo is playing baseball in the street and he accidentally breaks a neighbor's window, I am ultimately responsible for it. But the Klans didn't see it that way. Of course, the Klans aren't exactly people with common manners and tend to have marginal parenting skills, so I wasn't surprised.

Finally, Mr. Spring opted to fix the window himself. He will collect the necessary parts and send me a receipt. It probably would be faster than finding anyone there to handle the work over there, because we all know how fast things happen in the South. Even Carolsue said she could do it if she could find someone to cut the glass for her. So, with all due respect to Carolsue, it can't be that difficult.

There is a funny little catch to this entire incident. It turns out, Mrs. Spring and Mrs. Klan went to high school together in some obscure small Alabama town. Mrs. Spring apparently didn't run the wild circles as Mrs. Klan, but they know each other's families.

So, under normal circumstances, I might never see a penny for the broken window. However in the South, there are some unwritten rules. One of them is not to embarrass your family--even if your family runs with the wild circles in an obscure small Alabama town. And a phone call from Mrs. Spring to her mother might get back to Granny Klan, which ultimately would get back to Mrs. Klan.

In the South, there are few less dreaded things than getting a phone call from your mamma because she apparently didn't raise you right--even if you are in your mid-50s. Because it will never be a private conversation between Granny Klan and Mrs. Spring's mother. As Miranda Lambert once wisely crooned, "Everyone dies famous in a small town."

Some time over the course of Saturday evening, it occurred to Mrs. Klan what she was in for if she skirted this responsibility. I am told that is why she had the decency to come across the street knock on Mrs. Spring's door, apologize for Klan Jr. and offer to pay for the window.

Maybe It Is Gaylord, Melvin or Dumbass

I found out on Wednesday that I had a voicemail from Monday. An unnamed caller asking me about the home Jack and I have and demanded I return his message as soon as possible. I called the guy back as soon as I found out.

After I introduced myself and the reason for my call, the guy started asking me all sorts of questions such as, "which house was it you were selling?" I responded by saying, "I am sorry, I didn't catch your name." He answered with, "Mr. Cummings."

Really, it doesn't matter what his first name happens to be, I would have called him Mr. Cummings anyway. I have done enough business in the South to know my manners. But I was put off by Mr. Cummings reluctance to actually give me his first name. If that wasn't enough, every time he asked me a question, he would cut me off in mid-sentence and ask another. Finally, about four minutes into the call, he cut me off again and asked me to call him back in 30 minutes.

Two hours later I did call back and listened to Mr. Cummings repeatedly call me by my first name. His other hot point was that he continually harped on how he called me more than a week ago and hadn't heard from me--which wasn't true. I ignored it. There was no point in correcting him, bullies don't tend to listen to the truth anyway.

When we got to the crux of the call, it turns out Mr. Cummings might or might now be interested in the home Jack and I have for sale. Overall, the guy was a bit snarky, in an arrogant, obnoxious way. Truth be told, if Jack wasn't involved in this one, I would have passed on this guy.

Eventually, I sent him to Jack to let him deal with him. But first I called Jack and left a message letting him know Mr. Cummings might call and he has a strange perception of time. It took me 36 hours to call him back, not a week. And, by the way, the guy might have an interest in our home.

In the event Mr. Cummings likes the place, and we want him, I will know his first name. And you know what? I will take every opportunity I can to call him by his first name.

Brandie

So I got an e-mail from Brandie. I would have completely ignored the e-mail if I wasn't busy being a real estate agent and the subject line hadn't grabbed me. A possible lead for my Arizona business? Nope.

Her e-mail said: Graduation time is right around the corner and what do I have available in Hoover or Calera? Because the only "Hoover" and "Calera" I know of are in the greater Birmingham metro area, I pretty much figured out what they needed.

I found it interesting Brandie picked these two areas. Yahoo maps suggests Calera is 24 miles south of Hoover--and there is a bit of city in between. Very interesting choices. So, if her criteria of where she wants to live is that loose, I figured it wouldn't hurt to send her the home Jack and I own. Which is also 24 miles north of Hoover.

I have no idea who Brandie is. I couldn't find any evidence in my e-mail I had spoken with her at any time in the past. But, I certainly hope she likes the house Jack and I own.

Diamond Jim

I brought dinner to Diamond Jim Tuesday night. He had been burning the midnight and early morning oil for weeks and figured he wouldn't come up for air. I was right. Just for good measure, I threw in a half a box of Thin Mints to consume at his leisure. Being male, I am sure it will take him six months to eat the cookies.

Sigh... men really don't know how to effectively stress eat. And yet statistically women live longer. Conincidence? I don't think so.

Diamond Jim had two of my LLC tax returns done. My other two will be done before midnight April 15. They always are. With my blessing, my personal returns will be done some time in May--with the appropriate extensions filed.

Someday Diamond Jim is going to retire. He has been trying to do so for years. He sold his business a few years ago to a CPA firm who had such horrible service that his client base sought him out. Diamond Jim told me he got 90 percent of his clients back that same tax season. Last I heard, the CPA firm is still making payments to him for the "business" they bought.

On Friday Jim tells me he is sleeping in. Then on Saturday he is flying to visit his daughter and grandchildren. When he gets back he plans on starting on the taxes of those of us who filed extensions.

No... I am not ready for him to retire.

Ego Validation

Two unrelated and yet really cool things happened last week.

Mr. Partner sent me a card. He actually went to the store and spent money on a card for me. The effort alone is touching.

In the card he put a sweet note, thanking me for my role in our accidental business. It is his handwriting.

I am thinking of having this card bronzed.

Additionally, Bliz gave me the profit and loss statement for my S. corp this past week. I made a very, very small profit. My first profit! (insert happy dance here)

I even checked again later. Just in case I read it incorrectly the first 11 times. Diamond Jim tells me he needs to modify the financial statement a bit so it doesn't show any profit. But, whatever! I know the truth. I have witnesses.

I made a PROFIT!

The Cost of Doing Business

I had a long talk with Legal Eagle Monday morning. I wish we were talking about fun, friend-type things. But, we weren't. Instead I bought an hour of her time.

Among the more mundane topics we discussed was the property management company I hired and fired a month later and I are not seeing eye-to-eye. I had a long talk with the Alabama Real Estate Commission recently who gave me their opinion. On the record: there is nothing they can do. The property management company didn't break any laws--which is what the commission regulates. Off the record: the property management company are sleaze balls who have breached their fiduciary duties and I should go after them civilly. And seriously off the record: who the heck does a final walk-through with a tenant AND LETS THEM STAY IN THE HOUSE?? This property management company should be strung up and horse whipped.

Ok... I made up the strung up part. Instead, the guy at the Real Estate Commission just gave me a, "bless your heart," to encompass all of his feelings for the hell I went through. But I speak Southern well enough now that I know what he meant: strung up and horse whipped.

When Legal Eagle and I discussed, it really came to a few points. I probably would win, but it would cost me as much or more to fight them than I would recoup. It would be a hollow victory. Essentially, I would be suing on the principle of the matter. Never sue on principle. Instead, I am going to begrudgingly let Karma take care of this one.

Sadly, I was Actually Awake and Working

Ms. Kathy texted me on Tuesday at 5:41 a.m. She wanted to let me know she forgot to mail the rent check, so she was putting it in the mail today. She would overnight it.

There are so many things wrong with the paragraph above. First is the obvious 5:41 a.m. This is not an hour of the day I want to hear bad news. For that matter, it isn't a time I want to hear any news. I no longer bother with explaining time zones to tenants, as I figure if they have something to tell me, it is better that they just get it out of the way. But in this case, what would another hour or three hurt?

Of course the major faux pas with her message was that the rent wasn't in the mail. What I really didn't understand and mumbled to my phone as I read her note again, was how she could "forget" to mail the rent check? After I have given her a million breaks and changed her rent-due date? Was she just so used to having me hound her month after month she wasn't able to remember on her own? At any rate, kudos to Ms. Kathy for being proactive and contacting me first.

The last problem with her text might be harder to comprehend. Though this doesn't seem to be that much of an issue anywhere else, the post offices in the greater Phoenix metropolitan area tend to be crowded with those desperate to receive mail via inept government employees. Therefore, the lines tend to be long. An hour long.

Additionally there is a very nasty postal employee who works there. She derives a thrill from arbitrarily sending people to the back of the line when they haven't done her bidding. (You know, it is really too bad Seinfeld went off the air. This would have made a great episode.) If the long lines weren't enough to make me beg Ms. Kathy not to overnight her check to me, this woman's sinister bureaucratic methods (causing me to sleep with the night light) is enough for me to be willing to wait a few extra days.

Figuring the back story might give Ms. Kathy waaaayyy too much ammo, I just texted her back, relaying a simple: "Just put it in the regular mail. I will get it in a couple of days."

What I see here are the classic Mr. Richards syndrome. That being, ask for an inch but take a mile. Then, to make nice, torture me by sending the rent overnight. Mr. Richards seemed to think it would resolve a lot of ills to pop the rent in the overnight mail. Instead it just annoyed me further. Mr. Richards finally was asked to leave--just because I wasn't up to dealing with his shenanigans any more.

Don't go there Ms. Kathy.

Update

You know it will be a long day when the local Fox news shows up with a camera at your tenant's doorstep asking questions. If your tenant tells them to get the @!~%$* away from their home, all the reporter has to do is sweet talk the next door neighbor into letting them on to their property to film whatever it is they wish to film.

I know this first-hand. I also know what the "@!~%$*" stood for first-hand. In fact, I thought it was such a great sentiment I said the same thing when I found out the media had shown up.

This particular issue is playing a primary role in my life at the moment. It consumes too much of my time, cell minutes and stomach lining. And now I am relegated to sitting back helplessly and waiting. In the words of my friend Freedom, "I hate waiting."

The VP of Marketing

The former air conditioning company has been calling me. Often.

They keep telling me I have a service agreement with them. And, it is time for my home's annual air conditioning tune-up. They are right on one account: it is time for my home's annual tune-up.

Ronnie seems to be my new contact over there. He tells me he works in the "marketing department" of this air conditioning company. Maybe it is a Southern thing, but I know of no HVAC company here with a "marketing department." But then again, HVAC companies out here don't really need one. And, with all due respect to Ronnie, he has led me to believe that his stellar accomplishment of completing the fifth grade in three years was the highlight of his life.

Ronnie calls me once every few days to remind me of my service agreement and tune-up. What disturbs me more than anything is that Ronnie doesn't seem to remember he and I have had the same conversation for the past five months.

Our conversation usually goes like this:

Ronnie: "Y'all got a service agreement with us. It is time for your annual air conditioning maintenance."

Me: "I believe you are mistaken. I don't have a service agreement with you."

Ronnie: "Yes ma'am. I am holding it in my hand as we speak."

Me: "I don't have a copy of this. Would you fax it over?"

We then go through this, "Yes ma'am. What is your fax number" type thing--which amazes me, because I have given him the number about 12 times. Ronnie will then tell me he is faxing it. I will hang up, because experience tells me otherwise he will put me on hold for 23 minutes, wasting my cell minutes and my patience. When he calls back we start up again.

Ronnie: "I think we got cut off."

Me: "No I hung up. Are you going to be faxing me the agreement?"

Ronnie: (with--I swear--mock surprise): "Y'all haven't gotten it? I just faxed it. I have the confirmation slip in my hand."

Me: "Nope. I am sitting right here next to the fax machine. Nothing has come through."

Ronnie: "Do you want to check again?"

Me: "I am sitting right next to the fax machine. I can turn my head and see there is nothing on it. Besides, the line hasn't rung."

Ronnie (who at this point pauses for a bit of drama, I think he is expecting to come across as confused): "Well, I will send it again. Can you hold?"

We then part ways, and, next time I choose to answer the phone, we will do it all over again.

Neither Ronnie and I have yet to figure out which home Ronnie is referring to. Like most of our chats, everything seems to fall on the esoteric side of the fence. I have asked which home many times before, but he always threatens to put me on hold if I really want any concrete answers.

Last time Ronnie called, I told him if he was having such problems faxing my service agreement to me, perhaps he could just stick it in the mail? Frankly, Ronnie seemed relieved with that idea, but didn't ask me for an address. So far, nothing has shown up. Or, maybe he sent it to a random rental home--in which case, I may never see it.

That said, if I discover I did pay for a service agreement, I will be getting my money back. But I doubt I did. I suspect this is just a way to get out to any random rental home and find something wrong with my AC unit.

For now, I find the entire incident amusing. But, if Ronnie annoys me too much, I may just tell him the sad truth: I ended up buying three air conditioning units last summer. Ronnie's company didn't install any of them.

That Whole Burning the Candle At Both Ends Thing Is Getting a Tad Out of Hand

It is no secret I have gone back to working full time. And, yes, I still homeschool. I miss my friends, my free time and my sanity. But thanks to the likes of some bad decisions early on--not to mention Mr. Richards, Wayward and Mr. Smith, we are pretty much out of capital. I am not complaining. I chose these decisions. And, what does not kill me... yada yada.

But a few things are falling through the cracks. Like depositing rents. Last week the bank sweetly told me I bounced four mortgage payments. Not because we didn't have the money, but because it slipped my mind to transfer it to the right account. My bad. (And might I say, Gina at my bank totally rocks! She saved me from having to send Mr. Partner an embarrassing e-mail.)

Last Friday it occurred to me that it was April. Tax season is here. I hadn't heard from Diamond Jim, my totally awesome CPA, in a month. And Mr. Partner has been uncharacteristically quiet about wanting his K-1 statement. So, I completely forgot about it until the other day when Jim called. I have to say, being preoccupied has made the waiting easier.

Unsurprising to anyone, my desk threw up recently. When I cleaned it I found a bill that wasn't due just yet. But I paid it anyway--just to be ahead of the game. And, just because I was afraid I would forget later, I sat down right there and then and sent Bliz a note, telling her it was paid. Early. Efficiency is a bit easier when there is no spare time.

I haven't had a lot of time to deal with Jack selling our home. I checked Craig's list the other day and didn't see it posted, so I went ahead and just did it. Normally I would have called him and asked if I missed it, not to micro-manage, but to make sure I wasn't duplicating his efforts. But this time I figured if I missed the ad, it wouldn't hurt for another ad to run. And if he didn't do it, he would never know I knew.

I certainly don't have room in my life for run-of-the-mill tenant drama at this moment. Which comes in handy when I don't have the energy to feel sorry for anyone who is coming up short on the rent. But it seems the forces of nature have been paying attention. They haven't really granted me any minor tenant drama in a while. And I appreciate my tenants behaving.

Of course, I haven't really been handling the laundry much either...

My Day Off

Today is the first day of the 2010 baseball season. First pitch is at 2:10. My brother and I will be there to watch Danny Haren do what he does best. Marty Sunshine has graciously agreed to come home from work early and watch the kids so I can make this happen.

If anything weird with my rental homes happens in Alabama today, I am off the clock.

Besides, what could possibly happen?

The Seller In Me

Jack sent me a note. We have had no activity on our home. There is a sign in the front yard. Jack is doing all the real estate agent-y things.

And now I am doing all the seller-y things. I am questioning. Second guessing. Wondering. However, I am not doing these to Jack. I am doing these internally.

Marty Sunshine recently reminded me that everything happens when it is supposed to happen. Which is really nice to hear when you don't have your seller hat on. It is fluffy bunk when you do.

I did ask Jack what he thinks the next steps are. Do we lower the price? Switch automatically to making this a rental again? Or, do we stay the course?

Jack said stay the course.

I trust his judgement. I trust him.

The How-To-Be-A-Landlord Books Don't Seem to Touch Upon This

Today's public service announcement is for those of you who own rental properties where the Powers-That-Be think the person who lived there before your current tenant may be involved in shady activities with seedy outcomes.

Now, I should preface, in my situation, I did have some notice that the Powers-That-Be had an interest in my home. Because of this, I was able to give this some thought ahead of time to what actions might be necssary. I have also have enough public relations experience to have a decent idea of how this could pan out if there is an undesirable outcome (which is inconclusive at this moment and probably won't be completed for a few more weeks).

But just like the nuclear bomb drills in the 1950s, it just isn't the same as actually having to live through last weekend's ordeal while it is happening. In this case, the notice gave me time to warn those who needed to be warned, but did little else. Nor did the fair warning really have the appropriate impact living through the actual event happening would have.

At any rate, in the event you somehow manage to find yourself in this situation (which I certainly don't wish upon you), here are a few things that might come in handy.

1. Have a Legal Eagle. Give her a prepared statement of "the owners have no comment to make" or something equally innocuous. In my case my "prepared statement" was a quick comment last I spoke with her. She can fill in the blanks if it ever comes up.

2. If you have a Mr. Partner in your life, be sure to tell him about his early on. Especially if the home is in his name. Remind him not to talk to anyone. Remind him to give Legal Eagle's phone number to anyone who may ask.

3. Be prepared to smooth over any wrinkles with your current tenant. Because, I assure you first hand, the tenant will be none-too-happy. I promise. The tenant doesn't have to cooperate with the Powers-That-Be. But, it is nice if they do. Because if they don't, the Powers-That-Be can get a warrant and do what they want anyway.

4. Assume the tenant will talk to the neighbors. There is nothing you can do about it. Just wishing your tenant won't be chatty will do you no good. Begging your tenant not to discuss this won't work either. It is a given fact everyone on your block will know about this. If/when your tenant moves out, your future tenants will know about this too.

5. Realize the Powers-That-Be might be digging a 5 foot deep hole in your back yard. Hopefully the Powers-That-Be will also be willing to put the dirt back when they are done. Hopefully, but it isn't a given. You may be stuck with a 5 foot deep hole and maybe even yellow tape around it.

6. Assume if something is discovered by the Powers-That-Be the press might be interested. If so, see Numbers 1, 2, and 4. So far I haven't had to worry about this one.

7. If the case is high-profile, there might be well meaning people who might want to stop by and drop off teddy bears and flowers in your tenant's front yard, thinking it is some sort of shrine. Be prepared. Though I have to tell you, I haven't mentioned that part to my tenant.

8. Don't expect to feel wonderful about the experience. Helping someone find the answers about a loved one doesn't necessarily have the same altruistic wonderful glow of say, walking a grandmother across the street or saving an orphan from a burning building. In fact, I can say it is more of a feeling of profound sadness coupled by a sickly feeling growing in the pit of my stomach each day that even a fabulous vacation or a winning baseball season just won't fix.