My Nose Bleeds for You

Haroldine called me Sunday night. You see, she apparently is under the assumption I am a patient landlord. She is further under the mistaken impression I am happy for her to channel Lucy VanPelt while I muster up the energy to channel Charlie Brown.

Nope, I really don't believe she is going to hold the football.

You see, she knew the rent was going to be late and told me so up front. Then, when the due date passed, I barked at her. Haroline in turn gave me a new drop dead date--which also came and passed.

I would like to go on record here: it has been more than a year since I have stressed so badly about rent money that I have stayed up all night, pacing the floor. There are times I stay up for an extra hour or two... but not all night. However, Thanksgiving night, I was awake, stressing about Haroldine's rent check. It didn't come Friday or Saturday and I have been having sleepless fits ever since.

Saturday night, I finally came up with an acceptable game plan: call Jack on Monday (today). Let him deal with his tenants. Then I went to sleep for an hour.

Haroldine must have psychically caught wind of my action plan because she called Sunday night. Apparently rent and late fees are definitely on their way. In fact, she was planning on overnighting it--if that was ok with me. Haroldine went on to tell me how cash strapped life has been for her. She had been so stressed she had started having bloody noses and heart palpitations.

Really? I asked. Is her mortgage payment due December1? Because mine is. And, while she is at it, don't whine and expect to play the sympathy card with me because it isn't working. I am sleep deprived.