Random Bama

It is a superfluous blog kind of day, as I am heading for the airport after I finish my English muffin. My inner introvert is cowering in the corner, knowing the rest of my week is taken up by a plane flight, Girl Scout cookie sales and real estate. Some day I am actually going to travel for recreational purposes.

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It turns out I need a coat of paint or two on the house in Alabaster. Apparently I didn't translate Daisy's (that's Kirby's assistant) optimistic rhetoric appropriately when she told me "it needed some touch up paint" and suggested she would be willing to take care of it herself. With all due respect to Daisy, I am sure she meant well, but she touched up the walls with the wrong colors. She knows this now.

I did get a quote for painting the place. Apparently the painter was planning on using solid gold paint. That's the only reason I could think of that would make the cost of painting so expensive.

I hear nobody who looked at the home has complained about it (though I dare her to tell me). They were all too busy gawking at "fourth bedroom." But I suspect it is probably a significant factor in the reasons we haven't gotten this place leased so far.

Also, I found out Former Tenant Ms. Shirley took my stove and replaced it with a 1972 variety. I happen to believe in Divine Retribution, which is what was keeping me going when I found out about the stove.

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Speaking of Former Tenants, I spent the last 24 hours with a few divorced dads that come from Alabaster. I met Mr. Former Wonderful Tenant. He is truly a nice and interesting guy. We chatted for almost two hours at his office. Well, he chatted. I listened and asked a question from time or two. If Diamond Jim ever decides to retire, I may bring in Mr. Former Wonderful Tenant to handle my taxes for me.

I also saw Mr. 114, former next door neighbor to my Alabaster home. As he put it, he still owns the place, he just isn't legally allowed to set foot on the property. Mr. 114 will be helping me out at the Grayson Valley home. Mr. 114 was also quite chatty, but I certainly hope he has his very own Divorced Dad Magnet handy, because I think Mr. Formal Wonderful Tenant called dibs.

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The house in Grayson Valley is a blog or three unto itself. Monday morning I had James, the Hell's Angel Turned Carpet Installer out there to give me an idea for flooring. Kirby and I sat on the floor, looking over carpet samples while James measured everything.

I also had Mr. 114 out there to give me an idea of what to do with a significant drainage issue on the property. To put it mildly, when it rains water runs downhill. Then it turns right and runs downhill again through my property, congregating with it all of its little water droplet friends. They then parade through my back yard and down the rest of the hill. So, my back yard is like a water gathering place before their final journey--like the Diamond Club at the airport. Unfortunately these drops of water weren't raised right and keep destroying my back yard. They also are coming entirely too close to my actual home and I don't need the house flooding.

In addition to Mr. 114, Kirby and  James, the Hell's Angel Turned Carpet Installer hanging out with me on Monday morning, I also had Doug, the general contractor, and Scott, the insurance adjuster at the house. There is a theory being bandied about that the home needs a roof. It might. It also might just need to be fixed. I am ok with either option as long as the rain water stays outside and it doesn't cost me what I think it is going to cost. Right now I am letting Doug and Scott work it out.

My last visitor Monday morning was Ms. Betsy, the elderly next door neighbor. Actually, a woman came out and said Ms. Betsy was inside and wanted to meet me. Would I please come over? Kirby and I did, with me whining on my way over, "Why? Does she want to tell me that the former tenants had barking dogs or other former tenants were crazy? Why?"

"Oh she probably wants to just tell you the yard floods." Kirby replied with a Southern nonchalance.

"That's silly." I protested. "That is not a reason to meet someone."

Anyway, Ms. Betsy is in the late stages of cancer and she wanted to say hello. She wanted to tell me the former tenant's dogs barked, but they were better than the crazy people (Harold and Haroldine) that were there before. And she wanted to let me know that my yard floods.