The Rest of the Story

In addition to the two vacancies with the LLC with Mr. Partner, I asked Mr. and Mrs. Green to move this past summer. They finally left last month. So, though Mr. Partner has two vacancies, Marty Sunshine and I have three.

A quick background on the Greens. I loved them. I adored them. They would actually Fed Ex me the rent if it was a day late. They were my tenants for five years. Then Mrs. Green lost her job with no notice this past New Year's Day. I let her limp along for a month or two, with the idea that I would look them in the eye during my trip last spring and ask them to leave.

Except within that LLC I had another vacancy that needed a lot of time and attention. This particular LLC does ok with one vacant home, but two empty houses is a bit out of my budget. And the house in question was "managed" by my former-partner Jack. Jack neglected to mention the house needed flooring, roof repair, a hot water heater and significant outdoor drainage reconstruction when he begged out, leaving these issues for Marty and I to fend for ourselves. So essentially when I got to Birmingham, Mr. and Mrs. Green won the landlord lottery.

I believe in my heart the Greens were trying as hard as they could to make things right in their life. I also believe she didn't want to move. She would tell me about job interviews. I knew she was borrowing money from her son who is stationed somewhere where he is eligible for combat pay--and this was even with the reduction in rent. Somewhere around July, I did ask them to leave. I told her if she stayed current and kept the place clean, I would refund her security deposit.

Mrs. Green didn't leave until the second week of September and by then she was in for two month's of rent. So, the security deposit is mine. She also left the place clean except she left half of her worldly possessions behind, leaving Kirby to figure out where to donate them.

 Right now I am juggling these three vacancies, and wondering what needs to happen. I know I have done this before, but all I remember is the stress, not the solutions. At this moment, I have no answers.

Welcome Back to 2008

I'm Not Falling Apart, is the name of a fun little ditty by Maroon 5. And it pretty much sums up my day.

I would like to tell you that all is hunky dory in my accidental business, but we ended up with some hiccups last month when it came to mortgage payments. And, for the first time in 10 years we bounced some payments. Like a lot of payments.

A lot.

Some of this had to do with Ms. Angie going to jail. But most of it had to do with Kirby billing me for a ton of repairs he had done on our properties and not telling me upfront he was going to do that. And, when I found out this happened--two days after the first NSF--he sheepishly informed me that most of the repairs were completed, except for a teensy one that would show up in September's statement that needed to happen in our Section 8 house so that we could get the rent. And by the way, that was only $1500.

So, already being under-capitalized and having a vacant home in the LLC we have with Mr. Partner, we ran into some struggles in September. And then I had enough NSFs to balance the National Debt to round out that stretch of 30 days. But that was last month. 

Except now we are in October. And the work on the Section 8 home needed to be paid. And apparently my tenants in Moody, after making a huge stink about me replacing the bathroom floor--which I did--snuck out in the middle of the night and haven't left a forwarding address. I found this little gem out about four hours ago.

When I did the calculations, it looks like we are going to be short again this month. Mr. Partner has been informed of this. I don't know if he cares right now. He might care October 16 when mortgages are officially late.

I lived through this type of drama once before and it took its toll on my health, well-being and sanity. I am not in the mood for it again. And Marty Sunshine is certainly not in the mood for me to fall apart.

Farewell to a Dear Friend

I had breakfast with Diamond Jim today. Actually Polly, Buckaroo and I met Diamond Jim for breakfast.

I didn't know it last night, but Buckaroo went to bed fully dressed, including his sneakers and got up at 5:30 a.m. announcing he was joining me. Ten minutes later, Polly flounced downstairs (Polly always flounces) and seemed shocked I was not as receptive to the idea as they expected me to be. But no matter, Diamond Jim isn't my own personal accounting buddy. He belongs to the world. So, the kids came too.

Our breakfast was as normal as they all tend to be. If one were to replay all of our breakfasts over the years, this one would be about average. We discussed baseball (Boo Dodgers!). We discussed books. Sigh... We are just going to have to agree to disagree on The Catcher in the Rye--unless somewhere there is a better version written, perhaps about baseball catchers. That book would be much better.

We discussed children, mine and his grandsons, Timmy and Ricky. For that matter we talked about his son and daughter too. But they are my age. He shared a story about flying here one February in the 1980s from sub-zero weather on a propeller plane. All the while I just kept wondering if there was something else we could talk about to keep the conversation going just a little bit longer.

This is Diamond Jim's last tax hurrah. He is boarding a plane in a couple of days and heading to some remote town in Eastern Oregon to retire with Mrs. Diamond Jim. I knew this day was coming, but even so, I was not fully is prepared. I am not sure if he was conscience it was our last breakfast. If he was, he didn't let on.

I know Diamond Jim would probably still do my taxes if I asked. But, he has been a CPA for more than 40 years. He has earned his retirement. In that respect, seems like a bigger kindness to just let him go. 

I noticed when he hugged me and kids at the end of our visit he didn't say good bye. Neither did I. I hope someday I will get a chance to see him again. Maybe before that I will even pick up The Catcher in the Rye and see if it gets any better so I can tell him how much I love the book.

Sit, Roll Over, Stop Calling

I have dear friends who now live in another state and rent out their home here. I have written about them before. Recently, their tenants bailed, leaving them in sudden need of new renters. They have contracted me in my professional capacity to help them find a qualified tenant for their home.

And I am banging my head.

As we all know, there is nothing more desperate in this world than a landlord with a vacant home. The second-most desperate person on Earth is the one who is contracted to find a viable tenant for the landlord. This isn't just a client, it is a friend in need. I don't mind helping them out. I just mind disappointing them or finding the wrong tenants. And in all fairness, they read this blog.

For the past week, I have gotten calls that remind me clearly of why I have Kirby and Mario. The people calling--who really should be making an effort to provide a good first impression--lack basic telephone etiquette. For example, when is it acceptable to leave a message for someone inquiring about anything and not leave one's name? 

When I got these kinds of calls for my own properties, I wouldn't call back out of general principal. If a person is that obnoxious when they want something from me--a chance to view their potential future home--what kind of fresh hell will I be living with if I agree to rent to them? (And in case you want to know, feel free to dig through the annals of this blog.) In this case, I don't have the luxury of ignoring these people. It isn't my decision to make. So, I am calling them back and offering them a second chance to prove they were raised right. However, I am not getting very far. I am getting questions asking such things including how many bedrooms does this home have (it is in the ad they called about), what is the rent (ditto) and is there a pool (yes. THERE IS A PICTURE OF IT IN THE AD)?

My clients have a lovely home. They aren't accepting pets. Frankly, I don't blame them. When I speak to potential tenants I am very careful to explain the owners are not accepting pets. It is also clearly stated in my ad and on MLS. One man actually said to me--and I am not making this up--"But it is a small golden retriever." It really doesn't matter if it is or not, it is still a dog.

Another man said to me that each roommate had a dog and they (the pets) all "got along." For grins, I inquired how many roommates we were talking about here and he said there were six men and nine dogs. 

The home is in a great area and I suspect it will attract a quality family. Hopefully fairly soon. In the mean-time I am saying a prayer all these people with pets stop calling.

She's Alive

Ms. Angie is a dear, dear tenant. And yes, she did get back in touch with me at 5 a.m. Saturday morning. She sent me a text with a wild story that involves the town of Leeds and a guy named, "Your Honor". She also told me on the way home from her unpleasant experience she had a blowout on the interstate.

To Ms. Angie's credit, she has not regaled me with these kinds of antics in the four years she has been my tenant. Which is why I believe her.

However, the subtext is that rent isn't happening. She didn't exactly say this, but that was seriously implied. I haven't written her back just yet. I may wait the weekend and see if she comes up with a solution all on her own. That would be best.

Here's my thoughts: she is a great tenant. She takes care of the house. Even before Kirby's property management cut, I will never (ever) get what I am getting for rent from anyone else if I kick her out. It doesn't make sense to start the move-out process over this. Hopefully Ms. Angie will find a solution so she and I don't have to go meet another guy named Your Honor.

Strangely Silent

Today is the end of the month. I realized this on Thursday, around 11 p.m., after I had just sacrificed an exorbitant amount of cell minutes talking down my seller from the precipice she was on. While on the call, the my client mentioned August was almost over. That reminded me of two of my sisters in laws whose birthdays are both late August. One turned 40 yesterday. The other would have been 39 today if she were still with us. 

Month end also means my mortgages are due. And, wouldn't you know it, all three tenants I personally manage: (Mrs. Sherwood Forest, Ms. Angie and Mrs. Green) had not sent in the rent. At 11 p.m. Thursday night, I found this freakishly alarming and odd and--forgetting my pet peeve about time zones--texted them all immediately inquiring politely about where the hell rent money happened to be.

Actually, I had texted Mrs. Green earlier in the week, asking if she was moving out, and did not receive a response. I sent her the exact same text a second time on Thursday night, which she still hasn't acknowledged. That whole thing is grounds for another blog and I might be motivated to write about this weekend.

Mrs. Sherwood Forest was gracious enough to text me around 10 a.m. her time on Friday. She followed up two minutes later with a phone call and an explanation. Twenty minutes after that she was at the bank. I was never worried about Mrs. Sherwood Forest. In fact, I have never worried about any of these three.

Until now.

Ms. Angie, who has been my wonderful tenant for years and years, has not responded to my first inquiry. Nor did she respond to a second text. This is totally bizarre.

Ms. Angie started calling me years before she ever moved in. She wanted to rent from me in the worst way. Though flattering, I never completely understood this. I don't know where she got my phone number, primarily because I have a hard time understanding her drawl. Over the course of years, she looked at a few of my homes before she decided on the one she is in now.

She has been a loyal tenant for a long time. She is the first tenant to call me when she is going to be a day late (I finally told her she didn't need to do that--now I wish I hadn't). Last month she was slightly short on rent. In the entire time she has rented from me, she has never once been short. Ever. So, I let it slide. I am hoping it isn't a sign of things to come.

I am so flabbergasted by Ms. Angie's silence, that I asked Carolsue if she could swing by this weekend and just make sure Ms Angie is alive. If Carolsue is too busy to go (which may be, I recall something about a trip out of state to a family reunion--or she may just have a life of her own), I may have to go with a process server giving her an eviction notice to get her to respond to me. And that just makes me sad.

I genuinely like Ms. Angie and don't think she is stiffing me on the rent (though I won't rule that out because I have lived it before). I am just hoping she was away for a couple of days of well-earned vacation and she will call me today to tell me something I will probably not understand. Hopefully the gist will be she has the rent.

National Bliz Day

When God was passing out friends, He gave me an extra-special one. Happy Birthday dear Bliz. I would say how long we have been friends, but I don't want to frighten you.

I hope you have a wonderful day. And here's some orange candy for you--your favorite I am sure. 

The Administrative Matter (Part 3)

Mrs. C. had left my house without notice in 2010. At the time I was furious she didn't tell me. A friend advised me to always leave everything on good terms with everyone I meet because you never know when you will need a favor. I had remembered that advice at the time and now I am glad I did.

Mrs. C. signed a new quit claim deed last August. She e-mailed me when she heard from Flip's people and asked what was going on. We had a lovely chat. Mr. C. had passed on. She was doing fine. Her grandkids were being homeschooled. And she would take care of this silly little administrative matter immediately. Which she did.

The Cox's weren't as easy to find. They had moved. Then Flip stopped answering phone calls and e-mails. Looking back, I have to wonder if he had just thought we were done with this particular issue and didn't give it more thought--even though he still got bi monthly e-mails from me asking for an update. I do know my issue with Attorney Jon was very minor compared to others I have heard about.

Last April, Flip sent me a letter suggesting I talk with another attorney about any fees I may have incurred. He told me to call him (Flip) to discuss my options. I called. I e-mailed. I whined. I didn't hear back.

The fees aside, I really cared about getting this house back in my name. Panic started setting in around May. What if this was a bigger deal than I thought and Flip was just protecting the Late Mrs. Attorney Jon (they are long-time friends)? What if, because of Jack (my now former business partner), I have been blacklisted somehow? Was I being ignored because I no longer have "connections" in the South? That's how things work down there. What if Flip knew something more about this and didn't want to commit to a lawsuit? What if Flip didn't want his name associated with this mess? Was their a lien on the property I didn't know about? Did Mr. Cox take his truck in a drunken rage and run it into a shopping mall and now their is a lawsuit?

In an effort to get this resolved, I started shopping around for a new lawyer. I wanted someone who was not friendly with Flip--which turned out is pretty much nobody. I wanted someone who did not know about the Late Attorney Jon. When I would talk with lawyers, I would hear variations of, "Bless your heart," which meant, "You are so screwed. There is no way in hell's half acre I am touching this mess."

I spoke with both Mario and Kirby about lawyer referrals. This house happens to be managed by Mario but Kirby had managed it at one time. Because Kirby and I are friendly, I told him this whole sorted tale. "I managed a home you didn't own!?" he yelped. "Do you know how illegal that is?" I pointed out that he doesn't manage it now, Mario does. And please don't tell Mario. Kirby said something along the lines of, "I'm backing away and we never discussed this," which was fine with me. 

One lawyer asked me how could he know I didn't forge these documents and did I have some sort of vendetta against the Cox's? I told him I have evidence that late Attorney Jon had recorded other deeds for me before and I could bring in former tenant-owners (though where I would find them I did not know) to testify. I had e-mails between Jon and I. And, though--I don't remember doing this, but thank God I did--I had scanned a copy of the original signed quit claim deed from the Cox's before I mailed it to Jon back in 2009.

Another lawyer gave a low whistle when I said the Late Attorney Jon was my lawyer at one time. "Don't you know about him?" he asked. I replied that he was a very nice man who loved his wife and daughters. Even I know that is a stalemate in the South.

In the month of July, I spoke with about 18 lawyers. Many left me in tears. Some passed me on to other attorneys. I left messages for more lawyers than that. Most said what I wanted would cost a lot of money and I might loose, so thanks anyway. When I countered this was a small administrative matter and all we had to do was find the Cox's--I have their social security numbers--and have them sign a quit claim deed again, I was given more scenarios about how badly this could go.

I didn't sleep much last month.

I did talk to a few attorneys who knew Flip. Each one asked me why Flip did not finish this. I always replied that I thought this was a small matter and Flip was too busy. One told me I should make him. I was too humiliated to tell him Flip wouldn't take my calls.

Finally, though sheer clairvoyance or perhaps enough of the lawyers I talked to called Flip, I got a response to an e-mail I sent him in early June. He said they found the Cox's in a Northern state and he would be in touch. That was it.

A week later another e-mail came from Flip. A letter, quit claim and a check for $50 was being sent to the Cox's for their trouble. They knew nothing of this ahead of time and would be finding a Fed Ex on their doorstep sometime the next day.  A copy of the letter was sent to me. It was wordy, filled with "henceforths," and "wherewithals" and other legal speak. He also referenced the abandonment and default clauses Jon and I wordsmithed the night of our phone call all those years earlier.

I have to tell you, if I didn't know the ins and outs of this situation, I would have had to read the letter about six times to get the gist. I am sure the "avoiding a lawsuit" verbiage, the $50 check and the "sign right here" post it note was all they were looking at.

Yesterday Flip e-mailed me. He started the letter with "Booyah" and attached a copy of the new signed quit claim deed. It is being filed with Shelby County this week.

I saw Mr. Partner Wednesday and told him the news. Then Marty Sunshine jumped in and explained what an ordeal this was. I think he wanted Mr. Partner to appreciate my nightmare.

Because of the Dodd-Frank Law, as well as my own personal experiences, I will not be doing owner financing again any time soon. However, a friend of mine is now in a funny situation where she is considering owner financing for a tenant of hers. I have shared this story with her, and hopefully she will think long and hard before doing so. I have also offered her a copy of the contract the Late Attorney Jon helped me write. Just in case.

The Administrative Matter (Part 2)

When someone goes through the process of ending their life--someone who boasts of being married to the "light of his life" and leaves behind five daughters who are everything to him--one can assume the person in question has a few things going on. No matter how wonderful one thinks the person happens to be.

I will always think the world of the Late Attorney Jon. Always. Suicides are never easy to process, especially when it isn't up to me to absorb everything and figure out the whys. I was merely a client of his who happened to live 1,700 miles away. And for that matter, he rarely charged me for anything he did for me. I remember one time, when our business was in much better shape, I absolutely insisted he bill me. He sent me a bill for $25 for about 20 hours of work. I paid him $50.

What I came to find out was the Late Attorney Jon was disorganized. I also found out he had a few demons--but that is not something I wish to dwell on. I heard this and that from various sources and was able to fill in the pieces. There is nothing like telling someone, "Well, I've heard rumors" and the other person (in this case it was from Attorney Flip and Jack) voluntarily filled in the blanks. Neither asked what I knew--which wasn't nearly as much as they independently shared with me. The bigger picture of Attorney Jon doesn't make the man I knew any less likeable. It just made him human.

He will always be that guy at 10 p.m. one Friday night who had two giggling daughters in his car, crawling all over him, reading through my contract, giving me pointers, while waiting for his eldest child to finish basketball practice. We talked business on the phone that night for an hour and a half. That phone call years ago saved my hide this past month.

That said, the Late Attorney Jon left me a mess. He did not take care of those two deeds. We were vulnerable. If Mrs. C. was involved and responsible for some sort of major car accident, the victims in question would be able to go after all of Mrs. C's assets--including a home where I was paying the mortgage and the taxes. It would not matter one bit if I had a loan on the house. The house belonged to Mrs. C. If Mr. and Mrs. Cox didn't pay their income taxes, their would be a lien on the property I own.

And, to add to this, I was told by more than one attorney though the contracts we had with these people clearly stated the house would be ours if they defaulted, if the Cox's or Mrs. C wanted to reclaim the properties and pay us the back payments, they could then go after us for the rent we received. And, getting this resolved would probably involve lawsuits, judges and a lot of expense. One lawyer actually said to me, yes, it is nice and everything on paper but the Late Attorney Jon was your lawyer and judges aren't going to be excited about any contract he was involved in.

Yay us.

After Jon died, I asked Legal Eagle if she would take care of this. She said no she wasn't touching it. It was too messy for the amount of time and attention it deserved. I countered with it was a small administrative issue and she repeated the potential consequences at stake. I knew this of course, but I was going with the optimist best-case scenario.

After a year, I found out that the Alabama BAR had assigned Flip to Late Attorney Jon's affairs. When I met with him last summer, I found out how disorganized Jon was. In the conference room, stacked top to bottom, were box after box of the Jon's files. And, those were only the recent ones. There were plenty more boxes in storage. When I spoke with Flip, I assured him I had seen the quit claim deed for the Cox's six months before Jon died. Flip went through ever single file Jon had in the course of time and found many things related to me. But that deed has never been found.

To be continued

The Administrative Matter (Part 1)

I slept better last night than I had in years. This morning I woke up refreshed. And grateful! I can't forget grateful.

Years ago, our business model was to purchase a home, allow the tenant to purchase it from us with owner financing. The tenant would essentially own the home and we were the mortgage company. This model worked fabulously in Arizona. It was 100 percent successful.

When we started buying rental homes in Birmingham, we didn't want to be landlords. So, we offered the same terms: rent for a year then buy, then refinance us out in three to five years. This did not work fabulously. In fact, it was very unfabulous. Only one Birmingham tenant fulfilled this contract. Because the model failed, we became landlords and the rest you can read about in the archives of this blog. Hence, we have an accidental business.

Part of the reason for this failure has to do with what happened in 2008. As you may remember, the housing market tanked. And then the economy. Or vice-versa. It doesn't really matter. They both went out in a fiery death, leaving me with a gazillion homes that were now underwater.

In 2008, one family, the Cox's, filed Chapter 11 bankruptcy. Chapter 11 means they were reorganizing their debt. As a mortgagor, they missed a payment and repaid me in increments based on the terms of the bankruptcy. Essentially, they wanted to keep the house.

In 2009 Mr. Cox lost his job of 18 years when his company closed down. He called me to tell me this was the case, but assured me all was good. Two weeks later they filed Chapter 7 bankruptcy and included the house. This wasn't a reorganization, but a cut ties and start anew.

When I got word of the bankruptcy, there was a lot of mayhem and panic on my end. I could not find a lawyer to help me (it was out of Legal Eagle's scope of reference) and I wasn't sure what I could do anyway. They have a right to file. They can also walk away from the home--which I later found out they were doing.

This wasn't really an issue. Because, as part of my owner financing, I have a clause that says if the property is abandoned it goes back to me. And, to solidify this point, I made every tenant who is buying the house from me and using our company as their mortgage company sign a quit claim deed up front. If the tenant doesn't perform, the quit claim deed is recorded and the home becomes mine again.

The late Attorney Jon was my lawyer for this. In my early years he helped me fine-tune my contract. Jon told me once my quit claim deed idea was clever. And, he also added an addendum when the tenant-owner signed my contract saying they knew they were signing a quit claim deed. They also had to initial this and the clause about default in my contract. So, there was 100 percent transparency. Everyone knew what was going on. Everyone agreed.

Because the owner financing business model tanked so badly around this time, the late Attorney Jon filed a lot of quit claim deeds with the county recorder for me from 2008 to 2010. However, he missed two. One belonged to the Cox's. The other belonged to Mrs. C. I was aware these two were pending. The Late Attorney Jon was also aware. There were slight issues with both--easily resolved at the time with a phone call or two. I contacted the Late Attorney Jon on a regular basis to gently remind him to get this done. Without these deeds recorded both tenants still owned the home.

Though we were paying our mortgages, insurance and taxes, all while collecting rent, we had no legal claim to the property. And, if either the Cox's or Mrs. C had a creditor come after them, the creditor could slap a lien on the property. Or worse, what if one of them was involved in some sort of criminal act or a car accident. The property would be collateral for either of them if there was a lawsuit. And, there was nothing I could do.

I discussed all this with the Late Attorney Jon when I went to visit him in February 2011. Our visit was for the sole purpose of getting the nitty-gritty details done. He showed me the actual original quit claim deed he had with the Cox's and said he would get it filed. No worries. He would get with Mrs. C. and take care of that issue. An easy fix he assured me. He hugged me as I walked out after our lovely visit. That was the last time I saw him.

The Late Attorney Jon took his life July 18, 2011. 

To be continued

Flipping Estatic

The e-mail today from Attorney Flip started with "Booyah!" and I darn near lost it.

The stress from this particular issue--and there has been a bit--released as the adrenaline flushed from my body, leaving behind a peace in its wake. A peace I haven't felt in a long time.

My minor administrative issue is officially resolved. I will write about it later. I am still processing how grateful I am. And trust me, I am grateful. 

Fingers and Toes Crossed

I got a very thick envelope from Flip on Saturday. I was terrified to open it, as thick envelopes from lawyers tend to include words like "billable hours" and "pay in full."

However, in this case it wasn't. It was a copy of a letter sent to a former tenant. Apparently Flip found my tenant, sent them a Fed Ex with a letter explaining how we needed their help to resolve this ultra-minor administrative matter. All it will take is a signature from them.

From what I can tell, he didn't call them ahead of time to tell them it was coming. So, my former tenants got a long-winded letter explaining the Late Attorney Jon didn't do everything he was supposed to do. And, could my former tenants be totally awesome and do what the needed to do so a lawsuit wouldn't be filed? In consideration for their time enclosed was a check for $50.

Attorney Flip had e-mailed me last week and told me he was doing this. But now it seems real. When he did this last year (there were two issues), the former tenant e-mailed me immediately and asked about it. I was sort of hoping this tenant would do the same. So far, nothing.

Hopefully this will be resolved with no drama and hopefully the next time I get a letter from Flip it will be a very thin envelope.

Mario Party

Sadly it appears my relationship with Mario's company is tenuous at best. It isn't that I dislike these people on a personal level, though they are working really hard for me to do so. Simply, they they have spent the summer grating on my last nerve.

For example, after a repair was made without my authorization, everyone seemed to get on the same page. In fact a few days later, the tenant made another request for repair. This time for a ceiling fan. This time the work order was sent to me for authorization.

The work order was forwarded to two people before it was sent to me. In the "special notes" section of the work order it stated: "Fiona Landlord." I swear I am not paranoid by nature. However I got the distinct impression that was code for "She's a complete pain in the ass."

Because of the ongoing issue Flip is taking care of, I asked for a copy of the lease on this house. I did receive it. I also received a long dissertation from Mario's minion on the correct procedure for getting a copy of the lease for my house. That's nice. However, when time is of the essence, I am not interested in figuring out my login to some Web site, having my password reset and then spending an hour and a half combing through this and that to find the lease. When I ask Kirby's folks for this kind of thing, I actually get it without any sass.

And finally, if I wasn't through enough with these clowns, they have a new employee: Danny. Danny e-mailed me last Friday and relayed a request from the tenant. His request was polite, professional and referred to me as "Mrs. Landlord." In his request, he told me the tenant has a 6 year old, 15 pound dog that was currently living in foster care. Would I allow her pet?

I am not a fan of dogs in a rental property, but I don't have a problem with a crate trained, housebroken adult dog. In this case, the tenant has a two year lease and I am probably changing out the carpet anyway when she moves out.

I told Danny that was fine, she could have the dog (with correct deposits, etc.). I also mentioned as a rule I wasn't excited about pets in rentals. In his reply, he greeted me with "Hey Ma'am" instead of Dear Mrs. Landlord--which is the level of familiarity we were on.

There is no, "Hey Ma'am"! That is not my name. I don't "hey ma'am" anyone I am on a professionally-named basis with.

Anyway, Danny wrote back saying, "Hey Ma'am..." and suggested I "sleep on my decision." What??!! I already said yes to the dog. I again told him it was fine, I didn't want to put more thought into it and by the way, next time I am in town I will probably want to tour this house. I haven't done so in years.

Danny wrote me back Sunday morning. He was back to Mrs. Landlord. However, he told me I'd better give him 48 hour notice before I show up.

Yes. I will do that. That would be common courtesy. But beforehand it would be really awesome if he he and his colleagues stopped bossing me around.

A Simple Courtesy

The house Mario manages for me came vacant June 1. I had heard it would be vacant but there had been no follow up until I e-mailed them and asked about 15 days later. In truth, I didn't care if it was vacant. In the recesses of my brain, I was hoping it would be.

My contract with Mario stipulates if I have a vacant home for 30 days I can fire him. I was thinking of doing so. Part of me likes having two property managers. If something goes wrong with one company, or if one property manager can't rent out the house (Kirby had this one vacant for months), I can give it to the other property manager. And though I prefer Kirby on a personal level, I know Mario is working hard to keep my business, because he knows I have other homes that could be his.

And actually, I would have preferred to give him my Waterford home and my home in Alabaster, as they are geographically close and it would have made sense to split up the houses in property management that way. However Mario is expensive. The little tiff he and I got into (where he told me to go have my husband explain something to me so I would understand it--a comment I have heard he regrets and one I haven't forgotten) was about his company taking liberties I did not authorize.

Granted, the work needed to be done. It was probably for the best, but it came out of a dried up bucket of money. If I had been told upfront he was going to make those repairs, we could have made arrangements and not been scrambling for months later to get those bills paid.

Mario's folks got the house rented in record time: June 29. I was pleased. They got a good rental price and the tenant sounds like she is stable. I suspect they were pleased too up until the point where one of Mario's minion sent me an e-mail last week: saying they did a bunch of work I did not authorize.

And now nobody is happy. Marty Sunshine countered that the repair in question (the air conditioner) needed to be done and the price wasn't terrible. That didn't stop me from discussing this with everyone over there who would listen--and a few who wouldn't. And yes, I understand this is what a property management company does--they fix these types of problems so I don't have to. There is a certain amount of peace that goes with that.

My point is, if I can be sent an e-mail after the fact, why can't I be told prior to the repairs being made? It is a simple courtesy that will help me make informed decisions.

Possibly Flipping Forward

I proclaimed to Marty Sunshine at 7:30 a.m. that Attorney Flip was my second-favorite living attorney. I bizarre honor I am certain, but one he earned by e-mailing me on a Saturday morning.

Flip e-mailed me to ask me a quick question regarding how the wording of the deed for one of our homes should actually read. His e-mail was a suggestion that perhaps my small administrative matter was being handled and would be over soon.

I am hoping things are looking up. Because I need this resolved. It has been looming too long. 

I am Not Crazy

I swear Mr. Partner is toying with my sanity. Last week, he sent an e-mail to Marty Sunshine (because he won't write me). Mr. Partner just wanted our LLC's Web site. He said he lost the URL. Could he have it please?

"We don't have a Web site." I told Marty, quickly racking my brain, just to make sure I am right.

I then did that thing that makes me sound unstable or angry. I said, "Why would we have a Web site? What purpose would it serve? When would I have made a Web site and why would I have done it?" I was really just processing this in my head, because all of the sudden, I wasn't sure.

In the end, I looked up everything related to the LLC the Partners and the Sunshines own just to make absolutely, 100 percent sure I was right. Nope. No Web site and 45 minutes of my life I can't get back.

I am sure Mr. Partner had the purest of intentions, but I already have enough crazy in my life.

Well, What Do You Know?

In a bizarre turn of events, Attorney Flip wrote me early this morning. He had an update--as in he (or a member of his staff) had done actual work on this file. Hmmm... I wonder how many lawyers in Birmingham called him and asked about this particular case. Or, maybe he reads this blog? (Hello Flip!--Just in case.)

Not that it matters. It looks like there has been some significant headway. I suspect the "headway" was done in the past few days, but whatever! I am just glad there was action. There may possibly, maybe, be a light at the end of this long, dark tunnel. Here's hoping to a happy ending sooner than later.

Boarding the Hope Train

In my real estate life, I have listed a home about a mile away from my house. So, every morning or so, I go for my walk and I walk by my listing. The house is vacant. The owners are out of state. It isn't my job as a real estate agent to maintain the house or check on it, but it doesn't hurt to have an extra set of eyes on the place. Not that it does me any good. Because I have now been over there twice only to discover at 6:30 a.m. that something was stolen.

So, there I was Friday morning at 6:30 a.m. grumbling about why someone would steal something stupid out of the padlocked back yard, when my phone rang. It was from a 205 area code. Normally when my phone rings with a 205 area code at some horrid hour of the day, it is usually Ms. Angie in a panic because a thingy is broken/on fire/flooding. She saves the rent will be late for a reasonable hour.

But not Friday's call! It was Hope with a Southern draw.

Honey Jo's boss was on the other end of the phone! Sadly, this attorney knew all the players. When I told him the Late Attorney Jon was my former lawyer he said "oh." Not the kind of "oh" one uses to fill in a pause in a conversation or inquire politely about the weather, but as in the long syllabled type of "oh" that usually has a four letter word after it for affect.

When I brought up Attorney Flip, he started telling me what a wonderful guy Flip is and a darn good lawyer too. And why don't I just make Attorney Flip finish the job? I didn't point out the obvious Flip hasn't even bothered to have an intern return one of my calls. Either he isn't as wonderful as people think, or it is me. And I haven't ruled that out--I just don't want to go there.

The gist of my conversation with Honey Jo's boss was that he would look at my paperwork (which I sent him) and he will get back to me. He might even give Attorney Flip a call. Oh goody.

Right now I am riding the Hope Train that Honey Jo's boss will call me back soon with good news.

Just Saying...

There is nothing so humiliating and depressing as being blown off by every legal person in Birmingham, including someone as pleasant sounding as "Honey Jo." 

Update on The Great Lawyer Hunt

I have left another voice mail and e-mail for Attorney Flip. I didn't expect him to respond to either, but at least I can use this as part of the information it appears I will be turning into the Alabama BAR.

My complaint is simple: I paid for services. I am not getting services, nor have I gotten services. In fact, all I have gotten is a bill and silence. Flip could fire me as a client if he didn't want to assist me. But he hasn't. Therefore, he is on the hook at the moment for giving me an explanation as to what is going on with my issue (though I can pretty much answer that: he is doing nothing about it).

The extremely unhelpful person at the Alabama BAR Association did tell me she couldn't do anything but direct me to their Web site where I can file a complaint. The only issue with filing a complaint is that it doesn't get me closer to getting my situation resolved. However, it may very well cause Flip to get off his caseload and give me an update on what has been done. I can take that information to a new attorney. Which is all I really expect at this point.

Meanwhile I have been attorney hunting. Kirby gave me the name of two people. One of whom I know is very familiar with the Late Attorney Jon. So, I am going to pass on that one.

The other name Kirby gave me is an attorney who specializes in "the hood." I am not sure if this is what I need for a small administrative matter, but I am running out of options. When I called the Hood Lawyer, I was told he is out of town for a week. When I asked if that meant until Monday or next Wednesday, I was informed through an extremely thick drawl that I could barely understand, "August 5." Last time I checked, that would be more than a week. The assistant didn't offer to take a message for me either. I think.

Oh yes, and just to summarize how the Great Lawyer Hunt is shaping up: I also left a message for someone named--and I am not making this up--"Honey Jo."

Baseball or Grammar?

I have two posts written neither are ready to be posted. Sorry.

I do have some news. For those of you familiar with the Marty Sunshine employment saga, he has been offered a lateral position with his company. This job should be lay-off proof and keep him employed for the long haul. This is a heavy burden that has been lifted from the Sunshine household.

The following is the best I have today. I realize I may be the only person in the world who loves grammar humor. You had your choice of this or a rant about how the Diamondbacks are no longer in first place--which is not "all right".

Why? Because I Prefer Not To Think About It

I managed to miss the pow-wow with Mr. Partner today. Fate stepped in and decided to make my air conditioner die this morning. So, darn! I had to wait for the AC guy instead of rehashing the same tired conversations between the Sunshines and the Partners once again.

This time, Mr. Partner threw in a new one. He wanted to know why I don't tell him right away when we have repairs. Even as I write this, I am looking dumbfounded at the sentence above. Mr. Partner is supposed to be a silent partner--one who only gets information on a quarterly basis. Granted, it is more of a quarterly-ish basis, but still!

When I get a call from Ms. Angie at 6 a.m. telling me a widget fell off the thingy and it needs to be fixed by the local tradesman in the next hour or the house will flood/catch fire/implode, I am not thinking "Hm... should I wake up Mr. Partner and ask his permission to call a plumber, electrician, shaman?"

What I am thinking "Why does this stuff always happen at horrid hours of the morning and more importantly why does Ms. Angie only speak with perfect diction when she has a crisis at her home?" I have been doing this routine for 10 years. The plumber/electrician/shaman's phone numbers are all programmed into my phone. They know me. They send me post cards from exotic locales. They send me thank you cards for financing their yachts. We have a system.

It isn't that I am purposely ignoring Mr. Partner. But, I have to tell you, once the said tradesman is contacted, the issue is resolved and I can no longer understand Ms. Angie, I put the entire scenario out of my head until the bill comes.

Silence

One of the most annoying lessons I have learned from this whole landlord-thingy is to interpret silence.

When I don't hear from stable, long term tenants it means everything is ok.

When I don't hear from needy, drama-driven tenants is means everything is not ok. I will be in for a sob story about how rent is late because the rent money was conveniently stashed in their pocket while they dutifully were walking to the post office to mail me the rent and they got mugged by a gang of preschoolers who wanted the loot so they could buy cookies and chocolate milk.

When I don't hear from lawyers it means I am being blown off.

When I don't hear from Mario the property manager it means he has nothing to say (which works for me).

When I don't hear from Kirby it means he doesn't have time to respond to my 176 texts, e-mails and phone calls from me, all asking what is going on with my vacant home and the other pressing issue I threw his way.

Guess who was supposed to get in touch with me a week ago?

Feeling Rowdy

At some point in my recent past, one of my three readers sweetly suggested that when she reads my posts she just naturally assumes I tie on on every chance I get. I can see where she got that impression. And for the record. I don't. I am a sip of Communion wine every Sunday and half a beer once a week kind of party animal.

And if I am really rowdy, I might just drink a whole beer once a week. Maybe.

However, much more of this Great Lawyer Hunt and I may have reason check myself into Betty Ford.

The Great Lawyer Hunt should not be taken lightly. Last week I talked to Mr. Abbot. He was the lawyer recommended in a letter from Flip--the attorney who was allegedly helping me. Mr. Abbot sent me an e-mail after business hours Friday telling me to make Flip finish the job. That's all well and good, but Flip isn't returning my calls, e-mails or smoke signals. And I am almost out of carrier pigeons.

In a feeble effort not to employ another attorney, I did call Flip today and leave a message. I sounded a lot more chipper than I felt. I didn't tell him that he came highly recommended and everyone I spoke with had the distinct impression he was the greatest guy around. And, as a side note, when you are rejected by the greatest guy around, it really wrecks havoc on the ego. Nobody loves me enough to fix my small administrative issue.

What I did say when I reached Flip's voice mail today was that I employed him to resolve this and I would greatly appreciate an update from him or one of his lackeys associates. After all, it has been a damn year bless his heart. I wished him well, repeated my phone number and e-mail address (both of which I know he has) and made a note on my calendar to call him later in the week.

And I will call.

Meanwhile, I am hesitant to call back the three or four other attorneys I have names for. Flip has been paid for his "services"--whatever that may be (because I still have no idea what he has done). I don't want to incur future bills. I just want my situation fixed before I reach for a whole beer.

I Double-Dog Dare Him

Last week I sent Mr. Partner the first quarter books and a long note with what is going on. Essentially we had vacancies--which happens when you have a gazillion rentals. We had potties back up. We had a this. And a that.

The books for the first quarter show a sizable profit. Simply put, the property management company collected the rent for the month, holds it, and because of the way the banking system involve works, the rents hit my bank account the beginning of the next month. So, rents look a month behind.

However in March, Kirby had his A game on and March's rents showed up in my bank account on March 30 instead of April 1. Therefore, on the financial statement, it showed December's, January's, February's and March's rent. Essentially it looked like we have lots of extra money. If you take the rents over any random six month period, it will even out. It always does.

I explained this to Mr. Partner. The financial statement he was looking at was a snapshot in time. That's all. It isn't a reflection of the bank account, as most of that money is taken out for mortgages (which aren't paid until April 4th or so).

Mr. Partner in turn didn't fully grasp this. He never does. We have had this conversation many times before. In my report to Mr. Partner, I pointed out we (Marty and I) had footed the bill for some repairs at one of our vacancies. We also have home owner's insurance due this month. When could we expect his contribution? This is also nothing new. We have home owner's insurance due every July.

In fact, the scenario outlined above is nothing new for the past several years. The way we operate, we pay home owner's insurance out of pocket. We always have. Also, because of several vacancies we didn't have the cash in the bank account to cover the repairs at one of our homes and the home owner's insurance. This happens too. Welcome to owning a gazillion properties that were purchased when the market was fabulous and before unemployment was 18 percent in Birmingham.

What Mr. Partner did do was ignore me and write directly to Marty Sunshine. He told Marty he didn't want to "upset" me. My real guess is he didn't want me to go into serious bitch-mode when he said what he wanted to say. Sadly for Marty, I did--but only at Marty. I am biting my tongue with Mr. Partner.

Mr. Partner has decided to "audit" us. He is going to bring in his own team of experts--ones who hopefully can read competently financial statements. Mind you, Diamond Jim--a licensed CPA--has to put his stamp of approval on everything sent to the IRS. But, whatever. Apparently Mr. Partner feels money is somehow being funneled somewhere and it isn't the company.

It is obvious isn't it by our extravagant lifestyle and wild European vacations? My trips to Birmingham to check things out, talk to lawyers and inspect homes are generally on Marty's and my dime. We live as modestly as we can, knowing that every July we have home owner's insurance due and every December we have property taxes due.

I welcome Mr. Partner's audit. In fact, I will be happy to tell him the above and more when he gets hold of the books. And, if he finds more money it will be reimbursed to me first.

The Great Lawyer Hunt

I am currently looking for an attorney who will help me with this mess the Late Attorney Jon left me in. Last year I hired Flip to do this. I paid him. Called him regularly. E-mailed him as well. Flip, in turn ignored me.

Early on, I saw the flaw with this game plan: Hope doesn't get e-mails read or phone calls answered. I happen to know letters to the Alabama BAR or the Alabama Attorney Generals' office are much more effective. But I was trying not to burn any bridges. And besides, I choose to label my issue a small administrative matter which just needs a wee bit of attention. I would eventually get around to fixing it. Which is now.

A couple of weeks ago Flip sent me a letter telling me to call him to discuss a lawyer named Mr. Abbot who may have an interest in helping me. Flip said he wasn't sure he would take my case. But I was to call Flip and he would explain everything. So, I ramped up my call/e-mail/smoke signal campaign and got nowhere faster.

The underlying message in Flip's letter was that he wasn't going to touch my small administrative matter, probably because there are other consequences--like he is a personal friend to Late Attorney Jon's family and my teensy tiny administrative matter could easily be construed as a one-way ticket to a sinkhole landing in Birmingham Society hell. (But really, I prefer to consider this a simple administrative matter). If it is indeed a one-way ticket, it could get awkward next time Flip's wife and Mrs. Late Attorney Jon are seen socially. So, essentially to me it looks like Flip is rescuing himself. Though he hasn't exactly told me that.

So, I have spent the last ten days looking for looking for another attorney to handle this small administrative matter. My main criteria was that I wanted someone who worked out of Shelby County--the county where this house in question happens to reside. It also meant I would have a better chance of finding a lawyer who's wife didn't have regularly active social functions with the delightful Mrs. Late Attorney Jon. One doesn't need awkward ostracizing at tennis matches because someone's feathers are ruffled over what the Late Attorney Jon was or was not supposed to do.

Doing what I always do when I am looking for something in the Birmingham area, I sent out e-mails explaining I want an attorney who RESIDES in Shelby County--and under no circumstances were they to have a law practice office in the suburbs of Vestavia and Mountain Brook.

I thought that was pretty simple. Mario was the first to respond. I asked him personally because (though he doesn't know it), it is the house on Hysteria Lane that he manages that is tied to this small administrative matter. If he knew about my issue, he would not be pleased. And, he probably would--and should--fire me immediately. (that's for another blog).

Mario sent me the name of someone who happens to live two blocks North of Vestavia Hills, a swanky suburb where many of Mrs. Late Attorney Jon's friends reside. When I mentioned this to Mario (who was pleased I asked, as he is really trying to stay on my good side), I pointed out that this particular attorney was not Shelby County.

Mario's response was priceless: He said: "If he is in Jefferson County, he barely is. He is about 25 minutes closer to the Shelby County Courthouse than any other real estate attorneys I know."
Bless his heart. That is so Southern of him to purposely misunderstand what I meant.

Mr. Wonderful Former Tenant also sent me a name of a lawyer he knew. She was very nice. I spoke on speaker phone to her and her colleague who wanted me to understand in no uncertain terms that "My small administrative matter" was going to be small. In fact, it sounds like a colossal nightmare for me that would not going away in an easy fashion. And, to do this would cost at least my first born and probably a few years of indentured servitude to get resolved. But all was not lost. She had a friend who was located off Highway 280 in Mountain Brook who could probably help me. And good luck. I will need it!

Carolsue talked to Ron. Ron gave Carolsue the name of someone who would give me a referral. This gentleman took my call instantly. He was nice enough. He lives and works in Jefferson County (where most of metro Birmingham is located). He didn't know the Late Attorney Jon. But he couldn't help me anyway. He asked me if I needed a pea shooter lawyer or a Sherman tank lawyer. I explained my situation, including what I think is a reasonable course of action that could quickly resolve this. The guy agreed with my reasonable course of action but then urged me to call the Sherman tank lawyer. When I asked for the name of the pea shooter attorney, he said no. That wouldn't help at all. He also promised me the Sherman Tank would not be part of the Mountain Brook cocktail party crowd under any circumstances.

In fits desperation, I looked over the letter Flip sent me. He mentioned Mr. Abbot who might be willing to take my case--but he said this guy hadn't agreed to it yet. Figuring I had nothing to loose, and figuring he already knows what is going on (and because he came from Flip, he probably hangs out with the Late Attorney Jon's family, but whatever).

It took two tries to get in touch with this guy. (I left messages saying Flip gave me his name. The receptionist seemed to be pleased to hear such wonderful words while she ruminated about the character of Mr. Flip. This isn't exactly lying. I never said I got a referral from Flip. Just that I had a name of someone Flip mentioned.).

That not-exactly a lie got me a call from Matt the paralegal. He was familiar with the Late Attorney Jon cases and some of the challenges Jon's clients are facing right now (which always blows me away when people just sort of assume you know all the ins and outs of a tragedy and don't hold back on the gossip).

Matt was kind enough to ask me to repeat my issue and admitted he didn't have any particular experience with Alabama Real Estate Law. But from everything I told him, it sounded like a small administrative matter. How hard could it be? Matt needs to talk with Mr. Abbot. I will know more later this week.

If Mr. Abbot doesn't work out, I will also go to plan C. Kirby gave me the name of a lawyer in the "hood" (Kirby's words). Yep, I am guessing he doesn't spend a lot of time at the Mountain Brook Country Club.

I also have a plan D: A lawyer I found from another former tenant that resides in Columbiana, Alabama.

Plan E is another attorney who happens to reside in Aniston, Alabama.
 

Out of the Quiet

Yes, yes, yes. I am here. My quiet it over. I am too co-dependent on my therapeutic blog.  I am the first to admit I am needy.

It wasn't really my fault I am blogging. Last month, Kirby sent me a sweet, soothing e-mail telling me that there had been a storm near one of my vacant homes. And, wouldn't you know, a tree limb fell down, taking out the pole that strung the electric lines to the house.

Incidentally, Alabama Power is going to replace the pole and the lines running to this house. They told Kirby to "Sit tight" they will get there in "a spell."  Hopefully I can translate that to the house will have electricity this week.

Seriously? What sane person can read this and not feel their head ready to explode?

Out of the Mouth of Babes

It has been a long week, complete with drunk neighbor coming into my home, screaming at my daughter and me (in front of my children) telling the drunk to jump in the lake.

Then there was yesterday with Marty Sunshine's family, at a funeral saying good bye to a really awesome person. The rest of that day was spent with me gritting my teeth and saying, "bless your heart" at a variety of his extended family.

Which brings me to Buckaroo's innocent question to Marty yesterday: "Why doesn't Mom get along with anybody?"

Marty's reply: "Because she is a landlord and there is no amount of bull s--- she hasn't seen."

Into the Quiet

The day I graduated from college, I grabbed James Mitchner's Centennial, plopped myself down on the couch and only moved when absolutely necessary. It took about three weeks to completely decompress, with me only coming up for air to answer the incessant phone calls from a friend of mine who was trying to set me up with a guy "who had a great personality."

Those weeks of decompression were quiet. I cleared out the years of intense projects, papers and college life. I rested, void of distractions, allowing myself to relax and ease into the new season of my life I was entering.

Lately, I have been living that quiet time again. I am entering a different season.

We closed our property management division of our accidental business, which focused all my time and energy for the past 10 years. We still have challenges in Alabama. However, one main lesson I learned from managing homes is the time goes by anyway. No matter if Kirby or Mario are dealing with painters or if I am, the painters will still take the same amount of time. Me being anxious about it (because I am managing the day to day activities), doesn't make these people work any faster, nor does it change the outcome.

I feel like I have written the same story over and over again. The names and homes have changed. In fact, as I am writing this--and I swear I am not making this up--I just got a call from from the brother of a neighbor of my home at ________________ and there is a ______________ problem going on there right now. I don't know exactly how he got my number, because I don't even know who this neighbor is. Did he want to help me, or was he looking for easy money? I now have boots on the ground over there. I gave him Kirby's number and told him to call.

There are other things that I haven't written about, that are still unresolved. Attorney Jon caused a legal nightmare for me that is ongoing. He was a great, wonderful man, but very disorganized. And now I am looking at having to get another attorney to resolve this mess.

Legal Eagle blew me off last year. She said she couldn't meet with me for an hour during my visit to Birmingham because three weeks later she would be going on vacation. Jack left me a mess too, though we parted friends. I haven't heard from him, and after what I saw with the house he and I owned and he was managing, I don't really feel the need to contact him either. I think both of those relationships came to an end because of Attorney Jon's death and subsequent legal mess I have to deal with.

Then there is the woman I never met and never will. She disappeared, leaving behind a toddler my tenant was granted custody of. There are many unanswered questions related to this, including, what is that grave-shaped spot in the back yard of one of my homes that every one is ignoring? It is still being ignored. I am finally ok with that. I hope they find this woman somewhere else. Preferably alive.

I am tired. I need quiet. I need to change, grow and not be involved in Alabama. The quiet I have felt in the past few months has been cathartic. A welcome change from the drama of the every day Mrs. Landlord calls.

In keeping with my quiet, I have been noodling what to do about this blog. I am so grateful I have had an outlet to channel some of the craziness I experienced. And, I am even more grateful that I have had a few friends who came along for the ride. Thank you all.

Regarding this blog, do I take a break as I change seasons? Do I change my focus (a pretty narrow scope if you think about it: managing properties, fixing our undercapitalized issues and baseball)? Do I start a new blog? Or do I just let it slip away into the quiet as well? I don't have an answer right now. But I am thinking at this point, I may just set it aside and see where this new season takes me.

--SW

Oh, what happened to the guy my friend was hell-bent on me dating? I married him a few years later and we started our own adventures.

Random Bama

I am thinking this person is residing in the wrong state. By the way, it does not say "Royalty."

_______________________________________________

I got a text today from someone at 2:47 p.m. (that would be 4:47 p.m. Alabama time on a Friday afternoon) saying, "Mrs. Landlord, I need a plumber. My potty backed up yesterday." I have no idea who the text was from. 

At 2:47 p.m. today, I was busy--in fire drill mode actually--with my nudist seller who is hoping to close on Monday. And, as I am only managing a few homes, and I trust those particular tenants I am managing, I just sent a text back telling them to call a plumber. The outcome would have been the same if I had known if it was Mrs. Sherwood, Ms. Angie or Mrs. Green. I guess I will find out when the bill comes.
_______________________________________________
Marty Sunshine found a few of the lessons we have learned from managing a business in the South to have come in handy. The out-of-state interview he had the other day was for a job in the South. Early on, Marty mentioned he has family "in the area" (if you count Florida as South--which Southerners don't) and we own property in Birmingham. Marty said the man interviewing him suddenly perked up, became a lot more friendly and his drawl immediately got a lot thicker. I guess that was a secret code for something. 
_______________________________________________


And finally, I would like to give a shout-out to Carolsue's daughter. She graduated from law school today and there are a lot of proud people in the South as we speak. Though I have never met her, Carolsue has been keeping me abreast of her adventures since the days she was an undergrad.

So, Congrats Lawyer Girl! It would be really awesome if you specialize in real estate.

Waterford

Not to jinx anything here, but Daisy tells me the home in Waterford may, possibly, maybe be rented. IF I am willing to take care of a few itsy-bitsy issues. First, the carpet in the bedrooms needs to be replaced. I had heard that before from Kirby a few years ago and chose to ignore it. So, now I am guessing it is probably 100 percent true.

I am hesitant to send James, the Hell's-Angel-Turned-Carpet installer out there. It is 40 miles from his home and last time I sent him there, he dumped the used carpet on the side of the home. I suspect that is how he keeps his prices extremely low.

Also, apparently there is an infestation of fleas at this vacant home. So, there needs to be a low-grade thermal nuclear weapon dropped on the spot which may, possibly, maybe eliminate the issue. Maybe.

The tenants are apparently a "sweet couple" with "cute kids." They say they have no pets (uh-huh) and are "clean" people. They also want to move in June 1. They also want to paint the royal-blue bedroom on their own dime. That works for me. Perhaps the fleas will be dead by then. 

Danville

As a pro-active stand on his possible impending lay-off, Marty Sunshine had an initial interview today with a company out of state*. This job interests him, but it was just a first interview and currently there is no reason to get too excited about it.

However, because change freaks me out, last night I did my general recon of this potential location. I looked into some of the basics: the cost of living, crime and how far away the Costco was from the city which we could be potentially living in (three hours). I also checked into home schooling laws for that state. Actually, just like Phineas and Ferb, this job is in a "Tri-State Area", so I have my choice of home school laws. The state in question had a Web site dedicated to the their home school laws, and just to make things interesting, the site was riddled with type-os. 

What I don't know just yet (and it may not matter if he doesn't get past the first interview) is where to live over there. Trying to figure out where the most desirable rental area happens to be, I pulled up the local school district. The thought is that the better areas had better schools. Apparently in this city, that is not the case. Not only were they not boasting their fabulous test scores, they weren't boasting much about anything. Instead, the district posted an "action plan," explaining what they were going to do in the up-and-coming school year to improve their lot in life. I am thinking there is a reason the population has expanded into the tri-state area.

So, I am still not freaking out about three (and soon to be four) vacant homes. I have no energy.


*In all fairness, he has three interviews this week. The other two positions are local-ish. One decided against because the commute was 70 miles a day.

I May Start Freaking Out Tomorrow

Experience tells me I really should be freaking out right about now. But currently I am not.

Grayson Valley is still not rented. I am told it is partially because I am not allowing for pets. Which I am not. I have brand-new flooring in this place. I have an emotional attachment to my new flooring. I told Kirby this and he just politely laughed and muttered something about me being the one to make the decisions.

The house in Waterford came vacant at the end of last month. The tenants moved out because the air conditioning wasn't working right--though it has been fixed (and don't ask me why it wasn't working once again. The house is 10 years old!). And the second reason is there were termites. The house was also treated for termites immediately. I am not convinced there were termites, but I have no reason not to believe the three people who said otherwise. Kirby gave me the punch list of what needed to be fixed for this house. There are a lot of small maintenance items and that surprises me. Don't you think the tenants would have been able to take a screw driver to a door and tighten the hinge themselves in order to make the door close properly? After all, the husband is a mechanic. He probably owns a screwdriver or two.

Hysteria Lane--the home Mario manages--is also coming vacant at the end of this month. The tenant asked for a ridiculous reduction in rent as an enticement to stay. I countered back and suggested she move into Waterford. And, just to make things more tidy, the tenant at Waterford could move into Hysteria. Apparently nobody took me seriously. Mario's people sent me an "action plan" as a way of saying, "yep, we are on this." The action plan cleverly includes staying in touch with the tenant while they are in the process of moving out, conducting a final walk-through and advertising the home for rent. Frankly, they lost me at "staying in touch with the tenant while they are in the process of moving out." When one is in the process of moving, they don't really have time to stay in touch.

Mrs. Roebuck also moved out last week. A long-long time tenant, this home is now vacant. Kirby gets this one this week. In some ways it is easier to turn over a home where a tenant has been living there for a year, than one where a tenant has been living there since the dawn of time. Not looking forward to that punch list.

And then, mix in the impending fact Mr. Partner and Marty Sunshine's company has jumped on the lay-off bandwagon and neither of them expect to be employed there past the summer and you can see where I am coming from. However, I am not hysterical. I am totally zen. Or, I am an ostrich.

Mayday

As of today I have three vacant homes. I hear I have another one coming open June 1. I am not necessarily complaining. Nor am I panicking just yet. Maybe in another week or two I will do that.

What I would really prefer is just have tenants.

Really, I am not Bitter

Marty Sunshine has an appointment in less than an hour to sign the refinance documents for our home in Grayson Valley. This is a significant step in fixing the issues with this house Jack dumped on us.

Now to find a qualified tenant.

For the Record, I am Playing Hooky

I just got an e-mail notifying me I was attending the following Webinar. Apparently someone signed me up and felt this would be a benefit to my career. Now, I am not pointing fingers or anything, but it smells like my broker is up to something. 

WORKING WITH RENTERS!!!!!

Attend this session and see how! Renters need you more than ever in this market.

_________________

LEARN TO EFFECTIVELY QUALIFY RENTERS!

GET THEM TO IDENTIFY THE PROPERTY IN NO MORE THAN 2 SHOWING SESSIONS!

UNDERSTAND THE LEASE AGREEMENT AND DEPOSIT REQUIREMENTS!

TIPS FOR SUBMITTING THE AGREEMENT!

Three Litte Words

I am still trying to refinance the house in Grayson Valley. Though this has been going on for two months, I have hope, as the bank is asking for new random items that I need to compile. This past week I have been jumping through the hoops, begging (and loosing, and rebegging) Bliz for the random items they have asked for once again (the list is getting redundant).

In the process of doing so, we came to realize we weren't getting a mortgage statement for our Pinson home. So, I called the mortgage company for the Pinson home, and found out a few tidbits: 1) I have been paying the wrong amount. 2) they have been sending "e-statements" to some random e-mail address for the past several months. However, it wasn't my old e-mail address or my new e-mail address. Nor did I (or Bliz) authorize this.

To add insult to injury, I was on the phone with them this morning long enough for my kids to run wild when I finally found this out. And, when I inquired as to why someone had opted to send us e-statements, the customer service rep stated (with presumably a straight face) it was done to "save time and hassle."

At this point, my patience was at an all-time low. While this was going on, I stumbled into the kitchen to find dear, independent and clever Buckaroo, who was in the process of mixing powdered milk and water into a plastic bag and was packing it as part of our sack lunch for our outing today. He was having a difficult time and now powdered milk was now on every single surface in my kitchen, making the counters look like a winter wonderland. Couple that with spending an hour on the phone only to find out that the mortgage company had purposely caused the hassle I was experiencing.

 I couldn't help myself.  I said "Bless your heart" to the customer service rep before I could stop. And frankly, I meant it.

Probably Not a Failure

Saturday afternoon, Marty Sunshine and I sat in Diamond Jim's office while I signed the final tax return for our now-defunct accidental business. Silent emotions set in, my hand shaking and my lip quivering as I signed away. I decided crying in front of my 70 year old accountant was not in good form. Even if it is Diamond Jim.

Marty has continually reminded me closing down our now-defunct corporation is a strategic decision, not a failure. The business no longer serves the purpose it was designed to serve. We don't hold mortgages for our tenants any more. The housing market tanked. Kirby and Mario handle most of the day-to-day management for our rentals--which we still have. Bliz has comforted me with similar sentiments. Both are repeating the words I have said before: essentially, it is not a failure to close our virtual doors.

But right now it feels smack dab like a major failure. My failure.

I will eventually get over my sadness. We have a lot of changes happening around here at the Sunshine homestead that are providing unique challenges for our future. And perhaps, as time goes on, I will come to think of letting go of the accidental business as a major relief.

And not a failure.

Please Leave Me Alone

Every year, because it is required, I pay the Alabama Department of Revenue an extortion fee to do business in their state. For each LLC, the cost is $100. For my now-defunct corporation, it is $110.

I have been doing this for 10 years. And, each year, the Alabama Department of Revenue throws a dart at some random LLC or now-defunct corporation of mine and then sends a letter, accusing me of not paying them what I owe.

They played this game two years in a row with my now-defunct corporation. The second year, I wrote them back (I always write them back with the copy of the cancelled check), explaining that I have better things to do than play this little game and perhaps they could have someone possibly file my extortion fee correctly in the future and save us a bit of trouble?

The following year, the Alabama Department of Revenue went after an LLC of mine that had not been around for several years. That particular LLC was bought out by the LLC Mr. and Mrs. Partner own with us. At the time, when we had filed the final taxes for that LLC, we wrote a nice little letter saying, "This is our last tax return for this LLC, and you can now find us at XYZ LLC."

This severely confused the Alabama Department of Revenue, who THREE YEARS LATER began sending me letters saying "You owe us money. Pay up." At first I did reasonable things, like re-submitting my tax returns, pointing out where I told them it was my last tax return to them (there is a checked box for this), and once again explaining what happened to those homes.

That wasn't good enough. They wrote back.

And then I wrote back.

And then they wrote back.

And then Diamond Jim wrote back.

And then they wrote back again.

And then I put in big red letters on the outside of the envelope, "Return to sender. No such business at this address"--which was true. And that pretty much stopped them in their tracks.

At that point, the Alabama Department of Revenue came up with a new target: the LLC Marty and I own with Mr. and Mrs. Partner. This time they swore I did not pay my extortion fee for the 2011 tax season. Although I complied to each letter last year, giving them a copy of the cancelled check (showing not only was it paid, but that they cashed the check prior to April 15, 2012), they still levied a fine: $2.10 for my alleged tardiness.

This past week, Diamond Jim completed my K-1 for this LLC. To the front of the tax return, I repeatedly stapled (and photo copied) the check I sent them. Also to the front of the tax return, I sent them one more letter explaining how I am tired of this game and once in for all, could they please not loose my check and possibly appropriate the money correctly and save me the hassle and headache of having to research their incompetence at a later date? Except I didn't say incompetence.

I did suggest there were better things they could do with their time. And to please, please leave me alone.

Magnatism

I got an e-mail from Mr. Former Wonderful Tenant. Granted, he was e-mailing me to inform me he received his security deposit back from me (which I knew because he cashed the check). How sweet! Even during tax season he managed to say hello. He even told me to keep in touch.

A Modest Proposal

I have two homes in the quiet suburb of Calera, AL. The home on Hysteria Lane is managed by Mario. The one in Waterford is managed by Kirby.

Last Monday, the tenant in Waterford gave his notice. Frankly, I was a bit surprised. Though he is month-to-month (and has been for the past year and a half) he had just asked to put down tile flooring in the kitchen, so I figured he was staying a while. When I asked why they were moving, Kirby said they need a bigger place.

On Wednesday, the tenant on Hysteria Lane e-mailed Mario saying her lease was up in May and she wanted to "renegotiate." Apparently "renegotiate" means she wants another lease at a $300 a month reduction. Good for her! I want a mortgage payment at $300 less too.

When Mario sent this to me, he said something of the lines of "I am sure we can talk her into a two year lease if you do this." I am sure I could, if it were financially possible. For that matter, this is a pretty big house. A $300 rent reduction is like giving away the home. However, at this point, all I really want is to keep the homes rented.

And, in that vein, I came up with the only solution I thought reasonable. I e-mailed them both, and suggested the tenants change homes. I have no idea if this is a good idea or not. But, it seemed like a plausible solution to me.

So far I haven't heard from either Mario or Kirby (though Kirby is better at getting back to me, he still isn't winning any awards for timeliness. In fact, while I Birmingham, I mentioned I was going to e-mail him in April, and would expect a response back by June. He laughed, good natured. But I was serious). But, I figure it is a win-win for both. Both of them get the homes rented quickly. Both of them will have approved tenants from the landlord (me) and I won't have vacancies for any great length of time. Hopefully the tenants will see it my way as well.

The Birmingham Carpet Connection (Cash Only)

On Saturday, when James the Hell's Angel Turned Carpet Installer (cash only) called me to tell me about a leaking hot water heater, he promised he had a plumber who could help me out and offered to call me Monday and give me his number. James was being so sweet about it, and seemed to genuinely care about my predicament, that I just didn't have the heart to turn him down.

However, I have a plumber. A good plumber. One I trust. One who bills me. One who probably would make a Saturday call if I needed him to, but would prefer not to pester him unless it is necessary. For the most part a leaking hot water heater in a vacant home (where presumably James turned off the water), isn't an emergency.

Monday morning James the Hell's Angel Turned Carpet Installer (cash only) made good on his promise. He called me at 6 ^*%$&(* a.m. to give me the name of, as he put it, "the best plumber in Birmingham." It turns out as luck would have it, his plumber and mine are one in the same.

The Day Is Here

Despite the adage, March actually went in like a lion and out like a rabid mother bear missing her cub. I am happy it is over.

Good riddance.

Though it is the wee hours of April I have seriously valid concerns April is waltzing in like a den of cranky rattlesnakes. I still wish for better. But for now, at this snapshot in time, there is peace in my world because baseball starts today!

As far as I am concerned, nothing can be all that bad if there is a baseball game around somewhere. In fact, keeping in tradition, I am meeting my brother and two friends to watch the game. Here's hoping for a reasonably sane April and a winning baseball season.

I found this little gem the other day.

"People ask me what I do in winter when there's no baseball. I'll tell you what I do. I stare out the window and wait for spring." --Robers Hornsby

For those of you who may not appreciate baseball, that's ok. It is just a matter of time.

A Weekend Off

James, the Hell's Angel Turned Carpet Installer called me this morning, while I was herding six girl scouts at a local park. Sadly, he speaks Southern, and I speak English and he is very difficult to understand. Couple that with being outside around screeching/giggly preteen girls and you can see why under normal circumstances it might be difficult to follow him.

However, casting those conditions aside, it turns out he was crystal clear. You see, he was installing new flooring at my home on Grayson Valley. Apparently the "flooring" needed to be updated for a number of years. The carpet was threadbare in spots and the bathroom and kitchen floors were rotted, stained and scratched. Too bad Jack never mentioned it when he was managing this house.

Not that I am bitter.

But I am. Still.

But enough about that. The reason James, the Hell's Angel Turned Carpet Installer called me was to tell me I had a water leak in the laundry room. He just wanted me to know. Because I am a "regular." Apparently, it had been leaking for quite some time. Given the house is empty, there is no way I would have known this.

"Were you able to successfully turn off the water?" I asked, holding myself together.

"Do you want the water off?" He replied, completely bypassing the obvious. "What you really need is a plumber."

Though I am not in Birmingham, I was pretty certain the only plumber I could find on Easter weekend would be one with a child in Harvard. And, I simply didn't feel like funding Junior's education. Besides, other than me (and James, who is unable to finish installing my flooring), nobody else is being inconvenienced by this issue.

It took every ounce of self-control not to call Carolsue or Kirby this morning, and ask either of them to go out and assess the damage. My reasoning was that it was their weekend off too. James had assured me it wasn't "bad", but I am not sure what that exactly means. I guess I will find out when I call my plumber on Monday.

On a side note, if you need to reach me, my old e-mail address still works right now. It is just forwarded to my new gmail account. If you know how to import contacts into gmail, please let me know.

The Break-Up

My business has been an extension of me for a long time. And now it is time to let it go. The process is bittersweet, as I find releasing. I see new things on the horizon and I am excited with the possibilities that await. However, the clean-up is killing me. It isn't a clean break, it is a dwindling down with tons of details and I will probably miss a few few.

In the process of winding down my accidental business, I am finding one of the most challenging issues to be changing e-mail address. My e-mail address is my business name. I like my business name. I like my e-mail address. I have had the same e-mail address for 10 years. It isn't just giving up the e-mail address, it is giving up all that is associated with it. It is like breaking up after a long-term relationship and then running into some acquaintance who says, "And how is Bob? I always thought you two were a fabulous couple." And then having to not only explain that Bob is not fabulous but deal with the five stages of grief your acquaintance will go through on your dime.

Under normal circumstances I would just keep the e-mail address, but but 1) I have to pay for it and 2) I can't seem to make the e-mail address work with my cell phone. So, being a real estate agent and not being able to receive e-mail on my phone is counterproductive to fixing our under-capitalized issues.

We live in a day and age where everything we have is attached to our e-mail address. If you don't believe me, try logging into Craigslist, Twitter, Facebook, Netflix or Amazon without one. And, these are the ones I can currently remember. I am sure there are other cyber institutions who want to know. Also, I need to change my real estate marketing to my new e-mail address, including my business cards, Web site and (by law, with penalty of a stiff fine--these people aren't messing around) the Arizona Department of Real Estate.

Speaking of e-mails, one of the annoying quirks I have run into is that Blogger won't link my new e-mail address with this blog. That's going to be interesting. I haven't figured that one out just yet. Perhaps it is a sign?

Eventually, my tenants need to be informed, just so they can e-mail me to tell me rent will be late. Or, in some cases, send me something sentimental that I should forward to 237 of my closest friends in the next five minutes, otherwise Bill Gates won't leave his entire fortune to me when he passes on to his Great Reward.

Diamond Jim is handling the legalities of shutting everything down with the IRS. I also need to close down the bank account. But first I need to tell Mario and Kirby where to forward my automatic rent payments. I also probably need to let people know so that avoid having to tell some random acquaintance Bob wasn't really all that fabulous after all.

Up In The Air

I am not sure I will ever find the energy to write all that needs to be written about the house in Grayson Valley. This is the house that we bought with Jack, that he "managed" and then returned to us. The house in question went through a tenant a year, with little drama, other than having to turn it over. It rented easily for the most part. The rent for this house is pretty high for Birmingham in general, but not for the neighborhood.

Right now the home is vacant. I am not able to get a tenant until I have some of the maintenance issues resolved. One of the reasons I went to Birmingham was to find out if the home in question needs a roof. You see, Mr. Little, my now former tenant sent me pictures showing me where it was leaking. In his estimation, as a computer programmer--who has no experience with roofing whatsoever--it needed a roof. I didn't know. I know it was leaking. And, Mr. Little was was there. I am here.

So, when I got there, one of the main tasks I had planned was to have someone look at the roof and tell me if indeed it needed to be replaced. My roofer said yes. Kirby said he wasn't sure. The roof looked like a roof to me. I just want the darn house rented out.

At any rate, the Monday I was in Birmingham, I called my insurance agent and asked for their honest assessment. After all, given my experience with insurance adjusters not wanting to reimburse me when the tenant stole the carpeting and kitchen sink, I guarantee if it doesn't need a roof, he is going to let me know.

And, that was two weeks and four days ago. I have heard nothing since. And, because the roof is the first item that needs to be fixed before I can have the walls painted. And before I can have James, the Hell's Angel, Turned Carpet Installer out there to put in new flooring, all is on hold until I know whether or not the roof needs to replaced or patched.

This week, Kirby sent a roofer out to the home to get his opinion. A patch is much cheaper than a replacement. So, I called the insurance company and politely told them I am withdrawing the claim. I explained it wasn't personal. I just need to get the work done and the house rented. The only person out there right now was Mr. 114 who was mowing the grass and fixing the drainage issue and an errant snake who looks waayyy too cozy in my yard. 

Last I checked, "I am withdrawing the claim" is music to an adjuster's ears. After all, there is less work to do. There is no money to pay out. There are less frantic homeowners to deal with. Like I said, music!

Except this adjuster.

The adjuster actually called me about an hour after I withdrew the claim and told me not to cancel the claim! I had to pause for a moment, check around for hidden cameras and then resume my call. I was under the distinct impression adjusters were allergic to passing out money. He apologized for the delay (explaining his father had passed away the day he and I talked), but thinks I may want to reconsider. Oh? "Exactly how bad is it?" I asked. At which point the adjuster promised me some sort of paperwork tomorrow.

I don't believe I really will see anything tomorrow, but nothing was going to be happening along the lines of repairs anyway until next week. And, if I can't get my answer, I will just go on without him.

Found at the Grayson Valley Home

"Just a Little Guy" -- Words found in Mr. 114's text yesterday, which I finished reading right after I climbed down off the ceiling fan.