Silver-ish Lining

It is tax time. Next to the bottom of the ninth inning in the final game of the world series, it is my least favorite time of the year. Tax season encompasses a lot of machinations involving: 1) me filing 2) Bliz sending me profit loss statements and 3) me filing.

I will gloss over the "me filing" for a moment, as I am sure I will pout about it in a later blog--when I have actually filed everything from 2012.

Bliz, my bookkeeper and dear friend of almost 30 years handles the actual crunching of the numbers. A major disadvantage to our relationship is that she happens to live in a midwestern city which is not in Arizona. Therefore, there are time zones and other barriers to getting things done. Personally, I think a lot of the information she needs from me should be conveyed with us sitting face to face over a margarita at an Aunt Chilada's happy hour.

During this time of year, Bliz sends me random e-mails, texts and phone calls asking quite reasonable questions such as, "I see a deposit for $1.34 on June 2 of last year. What was that for?" or "There is a bill here from last March from the UPS Store for $64.91. What did you buy?" At which point, I am forced to comb through a plethora of data, trying to figure out what I needed to buy, pay or repair that might have caused said bill. All along I am wondering why I didn't just document it at the appropriate moment.

In turn, Bliz calmly waits, probably polishing her resume and swearing she needs better clients.

This past weekend, Bliz sent me a rough draft of the profit and loss statement that she did for my biggest LLC--the one Marty Sunshine and I hold with Mr. and Mrs. Partner. I looked over the numbers in shock. They didn't match what I was expecting.

So, I e-mailed Bliz, "Not to nit-pick but these numbers are a lot more positive than I was expecting..." Granted, this is just round one of the Bliz and Me Balancing the Books game. However, I have seen years where the losses were in direct competition with the federal deficit (read: 2008 and 2009). Certainly, 2012 wasn't that bad. Most of my homes were rented for the majority of the year. If memory serves, I only had two vacancies in that particular LLC (one being Ms. Kathy and the other Ms. Shirley).

In years weeks minutes gone by, I have wondered with complete conviction why on earth I was doing all this. Is there a silver lining? Essentially, more than once I thought about letting the business go, exploring new (and preferably profitable) opportunities and just getting on with my life. With the numbers Bliz gave me, we are still looking at a loss. We are still undercapitalized. Our rents are still down. But the loss isn't that bad--if "that bad" is really something to attain. But then again, a small-ish loss certainly beats calling it quits.

The Kids

I have perpetual rental clients, whom I totally adore. In their late 20s/early 30s, I have been helping these kids find a place to live for the past five years. Their last stint lasted two years and they really had no intention of calling me ever again. They loved their home. They were never planning on moving. Ever.

But, the owner has opted to sell and "my kids" are once again searching for a new home.

Enter optimistic me from a week ago.

My clients wanted to find a home, rent it out and then live happily ever after once again. So, we started the process. I sent them rentals from the multiple listing. They sent me outdated Zillow and Trulia ads. I explained the ones they sent me weren't available (seriously!!!! Why don't people actually believe me when I tell them stuff on those sites is not updated as often as the multiple listing? There is a reason these sites are free!).

We went back and forth with this for a number of days--seeing lots of homes--before they called me on Saturday to share the great news with me. They found the rental home of their dreams on Craig's list.

The home in question was "perfect." It was "stunning." It was like "no other rental home they had ever seen." They then asked me questions about how best to obtain this home. Of course, because I wasn't involved, I don't get my measly commission which wouldn't have covered the gas and time I have spent with them. I still adore them anyway.

Fast forward to today. The husband emailed me and told me they decided to pass on the home. The owner was a lawyer, and added a lot of lawyer speak to his 11 page lease. He put things in there such as he could, with no notice, at any time he chose inspect the property. The tenants were not to store anything in the attic and doing so was a violation of the lease. And my favorite: under no circumstances were the tenants to walk on the roof. Every paragraph was numbered. Paragraph number three said, and I am not making this up, "Intentionally left blank."

Then there was this bit of gobbledygook: Rent was due on the first of every month. However, rent was to be received before the first of the month. If rent was received on the first, it was considered "late" and the late fee was $15 per day. However, the lease started on the first. Go figure.

I think under the circumstances the tenants made a good choice. The landlords lost me with the bit about inspecting the home at will. And, I wouldn't have signed off on not utilizing the attic. It makes me wonder what kinds of tenants they have had in the past if they need to make them initial next to "you will not walk on the roof. Ever." And, someone please explain to me, if rent is "due" on the first. How can it be late on the first?

The good thing that came out of all of this is "my kids" are now thinking about buying.  And, they are no longer looking on Craig's list.

If Necessary, I am Happy to Supply an Atlas

There was an ugly rumor I was going to Birmingham next month. The rumor was started by me, confirmed by Marty Sunshine--though the specifics, including dates had not been fine tuned. The only item I had done was warn Carolsue I was coming.

And then I checked airline schedules.

It turns out Southwest Airlines, my airline of choice, given that I have frequent flyer miles, no longer flies direct. I can fly though Tampa or Chicago (Midway--ugh!) or Las Vegas. Too bad there isn't a stop over in Paris or Maui, both of which would be much more preferable.

I guess Birmingham isn't the smoking hot vacation destination it used to be.

Mr. Little's Going A Long Way and Other News about Our Home in Grayson Valley

Mr. Little gave his notice today. I knew it was coming from our phone call earier this month. But I was hoping when he originally told me he was moving in "March" he meant the end of March. Nope. March 1. 8 a.m.

Just because he really is all kinds of awesome, Mr. Little tells me he has the carpet cleaners scheduled for the end of February. I am guessing he is planning on getting his deposit back: not that there was any question. He is also meeting the handyman out at the house next Monday to fix the roof issue we have out there.

I am sorry to see him go for a myriad of reasons. First, he's a great tenant. But, when you and your bride have lived your entire life in some cold upper Midwestern state and all of your immediate family, friends and life is in the same cold upper Midwestern state, I can see why you might want to go back and freeze your butt off be with the people you love. I don't have a lot of love for Birmingham at the moment, so I can't blame the guy.

Trying to be proactive about this house, I talked to some guy named Jason who sent me a postcard saying he wants to buy my home in Grayson Valley--currently Mr. Little's home. What Jason clarified when we chatted today was that his postcard really meant was he was willing to offer me $50,000 cash for this house. Or, he was willing to take over the payments. Neither option thrilled me. I didn't tell him what my payment was, but I am guessing it wouldn't thrill him either. Jason and I parted friends, with me telling him to keep my number and he laughing politely and probably muttering under his breath about the "crazy and unreasonable Arizona lady."

The good news, is the mortgage company made a big mistake and we just got it remedied. So, now our payment is $150 lower than it was (and what it should have been all along). The money they owe us will be used to pay off the heat pump Jack--before he bailed on us--wanted to buy on credit, thus bettering our cash position. Sort of. I suspect we are going to take a $150 hit on rent as Kirby will probably be managing this and I don't think I can get what I was getting for rent before.

Our next step is looking at refinancing. Banks don't like to refinance empty homes, so we need to get this done before Mr. Little moves out. Or, we need to find someone to buy it from us at a reasonable price. At this moment, either is fine with me.

"Carry On My Wayward Son"

Though there has been plenty of drama in Alabama, I haven't had time to sit long enough to process what has been going on. However, if you heard some sort of grumble by way of Mesa, AZ this morning, it was me swearing at my phone when Mrs. Sherwood texted me at 7:30 today. On Saturday, she texted me at 6:30 a.m.

There has also been a lot going on in baseball news too. I haven't had much time to process that either.

What I have been doing is making the Arizona Department of Real Estate happy by taking my continuing education classes. Last week was a landlord-tenant class. Today I am suffering through Fair Housing.

I would like to tell you I made my real estate client happy last week, but from what she told me in no uncertain circumstances last Friday, I am responsible for all of her poor decisions for the past ten years and it is completely my fault the transaction was going South (because I choose not to pay her bills?). By the way, she finally got her house yesterday.

Anyway, my brother sent this to me. I thought it was pretty cool. (It is sad that Kansas is now Muzak). Happy Wednesday everyone.

Comps Roulette

I ended up getting three sets of comps for my home in Grayson Valley. This was the home Jack owned with the Sunshines up until this past December 31. The home is about 20 years old, brick, three bedroom, two bath, vaulted ceilings, two car garage with a fenced, level back yard. It also backs the Grayson Valley Golf Course, at Grayson Valley Country Club. However, there is foliage in the way, between the back yard and the actual golf course, so the value added for backing the golf course is a wash.

My first set of comps came from Kirby a few weeks ago before Jack left our LLC. He confirmed my gut feel: the house is worth between $125,000 to $135,000. When I offered the house for sale to Mr. Little, my current tenant, he thought that was a fair price too. However, come spring, he is moving back to the Artic tundra the Midwest and doesn't need a fabulous home in Birmingham.

My second set of comps came from Mike, the agent I wrote about last week. I wasn't very comfortable with his level of professionalism and was ready to call it quits before we got started. Marty Sunshine thought otherwise, feeling it was only fair to give him a fighting chance, so I sent him the address of my home. Sadly, this tid-bit of vital information totally confused Mike, because he, for some strange reason, was under the impression I was interested in selling some other random home that I don't own (Yes! There is a home in Birmingham I don't own!). Of course, if he was willing to talk to me last week when I called, he probably woudn't have been so confused. 

Though I had prefaced our e-mail exchange by explaining I was a licensed agent in the state of Arizona, Mike didn't take that to mean I had any indication of what I was talking about. So, his comps were of homes were all over the place. In fact, all but two were in different neighborhoods and were nothing like the twenty year old, three bedroom ranch home I would like to sell. Pleasantly, a few of the homes were in Mrs. Green's neighborhood. So, now I know what I can expect if I sell that one.

The only real useful comp that he gave me was of the four bedroom home directly across the street from my home. It sold recently for $139,000. However, based on Mike's assessment (completely bypassing the fact that only two homes--the ones in the same neighborhood as this one--in his comps were legit and higher than the rest of the gobbledygook he sent), the home would probably sell for about $110,000.

The last set of comps came from a Birmingham Agent on my Facebook Friend's list. She actually got in touch with me about 10 minutes after I contacted her. She was professional and asked relevant questions. She told me this is not a neighborhood she is real familiar with, but her best guess with the information she had was it was worth about $135,000. Personally, I think that is high, as I am not really willing to update my home enough to get $135,000. Nor do I have the money to cover a mortgage payment for three to six months if this house is priced higher. If I sell it, I want it gone.

I did give the third agent a few other items for her to work on (like find me an investor buyer for the home in Leeds). And, if I decide to sell it, I will probably give her first right of refusal. But right now I need to see if there is a possibility to refinance the house. The house has always rented easily, and I have gotten a very good rental price for it. However, rents have gone down since Mr. Little moved in. If I can cash flow and I can keep it for another year, that might be for the best.

The Power of Social Media

The real estate agent I contacted yesterday seemed a bit clueless and did nothing to boost my confidence about his abilities, much less his people skills. After I posted my blog, my e-mail exchanges with him got weirder to the point where I am pretty much done before we go any further. If we were at Starbucks, speed dating I would have pegged him as a stalker living in the basement of his's mother's 1975 house.

Then it occurred to me! I am facebook friends with a real estate agent (whom I have never met) in Birmingham. I contacted her, gave her my info and in no less than 10 minutes, she e-mailed me and gave me a piece of mind.

I already had a backup plan in place if she didn't work out: I was going to try Twitter.

Awkward Options

The big question Marty and I have been debating this week is what to do with the house we owned with Jack. Now that Jack is no longer in the picture, we have options.

One avenue we are exploring is just selling the place. We probably could get slightly more than we paid for it, though with real estate fees, we would probably break even or make a little bit, given Jack gave us his down payment in the dissolution decree. However, it might be the most advantageous of our options.

So, I e-mailed Kirby and asked if he wanted to handle a sale. He said he would, but I would probably hear from him once in a blue moon as he is busy with that whole property management thing and doesn't have time for a sale. It was one of the two e-mails I had sent Kirby that day, and I still haven't gotten a reply from the other e-mail, so I am guessing he being my agent is not a win-win.

I could also ask Jack if he wants to sell it. But that seems awkward. "Hey Jack, want to sell the house you bailed on and be the only one who walks away with cash in your pocket because you will be paid a commission for selling it?"

Instead, I went to the Internet, found someone who is selling a home in the general neighborhood and contacted that guy. I explained I have a home in the neighborhood and am thinking about selling it. What did he think it was worth?

This is really a trick question, because I know what it is worth. I also know I am probably putting in new carpet and doing some painting as well. But, I wanted this guy's opinion just to see how credible he is. Real estate agents who give their sellers some inflated number so they can get the sale always disappoint. I know this. I have lost listings to these types of agents. Over-inflating a home's value does nobody any good in the long run. But, the process does weed out the honest agents from the snake oil sales people.

The agent, Mike, played phone tag this morning with him leaving a message saying hello. My return call to him was simply to request he call me to discuss my situation, as I saw no reason to go into the long-winded details in a voice mail. When he did return my call, he left a message saying there was no reason to call him back, he would just send over comps later today and we could go from there.

Well, yes there is a reason to talk, I hadn't given him the actual address of my home.

If Mike comes back with comps for the right property I will probably hire him on the spot for showing such initiative and clairvoyance in finding the correct home of mine in question. However, I am thinking right now this is a sign from above that I need to move on.

The House That Jack Bought

Jack, my real estate agent in Birmingham, approached us in 2008 about investing in a few homes together. At the time, it seemed like a reasonable idea. We found a home, bought it with some equity and found a renter. Then we found another tenant. And another. And another. We never found another home.

Last month Jack approached us about selling out his interest in the LLC. Essentially, he was quit-claiming his share of the LLC back to Marty and me. Jack graciously suggested that if he got out we would have "twice the equity." Which is nice and all, but that also leaves us with twice the bills. And, in all fairness, Jack wasn't paying those bills anyway so it isn't as if he was out more than some inconvenience for showing the home and working with a repair person or two. The cash flow position on this property has been so tight that even I am not taking a property management fee for this house.

My feeling is he thinks this home (and subsequently the LLC) is a sinking ship. The Birmingham real estate market is not bouncing back as fast as the Phoenix market. So, I can appreciate his point of view. However, Marty and I wouldn't have made some of the decisions differently if we knew Jack was going to bail. For example, Jack lobbied to put a new heat pump on the home but wanted to do it on credit. Begrudgingly, we finally agreed, and are still paying it off. At the time, I would rather have just paid half and had Jack pay the other half, instead of buying the heat pump on installments. Live and learn.

I am not spewing sour grapes. I happen to like Jack. He tells fascinating stories and has a great business mind. In fact, I have probably communicated with him more in the past month than I have all last year. Much of the talk between us has been about how we enjoy each other's company when I am in town and our mutual interest in writing. I am curious if he will make time to see me next time I show up (which, at this point won't be soon). I guess I will find out later if he meant it or if it was nice words to ease the tension.

Yesterday, Mr. Little, the tenant for this particular home, e-mailed me. There is a leak in the roof. A simple-ish fix that will require a handyman. I asked Mr. Little if he might have an interest in buying the home. He doesn't. In fact, he gave me a 60 day notice instead. Another challenge for Marty and I to take on.

The home is being transitioned to the LLC Marty and I own by ourselves. We are also looking at changing the mortgage, including fixing the heat pump payment that should never have been bought on credit. Or perhaps we can just sell the darn house and take "twice the equity." That would work too.

Magnatized

Mr. Wonderful is all kinds of awesome. I really believe so, but it is somewhat awkward to be friends with a tenant or even a former tenant. And though I have male friends, I prefer they all are sanctioned by Marty Sunshine.

For those of you needing a back-story. Mr. Wonderful moved into my home last April. He rented out my home in Alabaster after Ms. Shirley left (painting a sample color or three on every wall downstairs). However, Mr. Wonderful didn't care about a little mis-matched paint. He had some place to live. Which was fine by me.

Much to his delight, Mr. Wonderful bought a home last month. It was a dandy of a home and a bargain price too. I know this because Mr. Wonderful talked to me about it. And, he sent me the listing. It really is a nice place. Much nicer than my home in Alabaster. And much, much bigger too.

Buying a home before the lease is up is a bit of a conundrum. You see, Mr. Wonderful is on the hook for the remaining money. He knows this. I know this. Fortunately, he is (so far) paying his fair share. He is also frantically helping me find a tenant.

On Wednesday he called with a lead. One of his clients needs a short-term lease. If I were to agree, his client would be in as soon as possible and be out by summer--just in time for renting season. And, by the way, Mr. Wonderful had given this guy my name and e-mail address.

So, what did I think?

I think this might work out. Though I loathe short-term leases, exceptions can be made for the right person. So, when the new guy e-mailed me, I explained the rent is higher on a short-term lease and I wasn't painting the patchwork quilt walls either. And please contact Kirby. Of course, if forced, I will paint the mis-matched walls. But if I don't have to do it just now, that's fine by me.

Meanwhile, something tells me Mr. Wonderful isn't going away. He recently expressed his disappointment that I didn't contact him last time I was in town. He has told me when I am next in town to let him know so he can show off his new home to me. I currently have no plans of stepping foot in Alabama any time soon. But perhaps by the time I do, Mr. Wonderful will have found a new Divorced Dad Magnet.

Let's Move On, Shall We?

My loyalties to Alabama football is solely built on self preservation. But please! Don't tell the gang down South.

On Tuesday, I heard from three folks, all independent of each other, who wanted to revel in Alabama's obscene 42 to 14 victory. One person texted me and said, "God was merciful, only making the quarters last 15 minutes."

Another sent me a text saying, "What a great game! You weren't rooting for the Irish were you?"

Yea, like I would admit it to these folks if I actually had a college football allegiance to someone other than the Tide.

Mellowing Out

Days until pitchers and catchers report: 35. Oh come on! You were secretly wanting to know.

I have spent the last week fulfilling my 2012 resolution: clean out my office. After a coat of paint (butter cream), it looks pretty wonderful right now. I tried to post pictures, but my aptitude for technology is akin to my aptitude for belly dancing and pole vaulting.

My office has been the source of a lot of stress over the years. And--dare I say it--there may be something to the whole Feng Shui thing. Paper paralyzes me. Overwhelmed, paper stacks up around me, waiting until I have the stamina to file. I am told it is psychosomatic by a pedantic someone who doesn't appreciate my overwhelm for the true handicap that it is, and instead finds my inability to handle paper as contributing to clutter.

Even after I took out the piles of paper (which are now sitting in the garage still waiting to be filed), I found other aspects a bit disheartening. My office represents a different time in my life. For example, I found brochures and marketing paraphernalia that was once used in our Accidental Business. There was a time when I had so many applications for rental homes that I sent out postcards, telling applicants I would let them know when capital became available. I found some of those postcards.

I found a lot of things that were once used when we were growing. We aren't growing any more.

Somewhere in time gone by--I realize now--I mistook "not growing" for "not thriving." Our company is no longer in the toddler years, needing constant attention. When I read back to my blog posts from years gone by, I am astounded by how much time was taken up by little things. When did I find time for anything else? No wonder we stopped growing! I didn't have time to manage and grow (and the housing collapse didn't help either).

If our business were human, it would be fair to say we are no longer in our early years. It has successfully transitioned into the mellowed existence of young adulthood. We no longer need the daily hand-holding, but instead need the philosophical conversations and the examination of values to help us blossom into full-blown maturity.

We have some of the daily issues still taunting us: vacancies (two right now), late rents and crazy people. That probably is standard with all rentals. The big picture isn't changing too much either: pay the bills, grow the equity. But I hadn't sat back until this week and realized my Accidental Business has grown. It is a constant changing entity that doesn't need the myopic management it received before.

I didn't realize how grateful I was for this transition until now. It is time to move on. My business did this years ago. I am just now catching up.

That Time Of Year

I would be remiss if I did not direct your attention--once again--to the fact that Alabama (State? University?) is playing in the College Super Bowl (or whatever they call it) today.

I can guarantee there is no reason to call anyone in Birmingham today, as they are getting ready for the big game. Tomorrow they will be hung over from celebrating. Celebrating is what I am expecting, as I have yet to see this team loose a bowl game. And if they do loose, I am certainly not calling anyone tomorrow!

Roll Tide, Y'all.

On a separate note, Diamond Jim's Oregon Ducks won last week. I thought I should mention that for equal time.

On a last, and possibly most important note: baseball season is right around the corner.

Random Correspondence

I don't make this stuff up. I don't need to.

I was cleaning out my office today and ran across these two little ditties below. I am sorry I only saved two. There have been many, many more.

A word about this first letter. It came just as you see below. The paper was folded in half with Marty Sunshine's name hand-written on the front.

For grins (and possibly to unload a home), I called the phone number. The first time I got a business voice mail for ABC Something Or Other--which had nothing to do with real estate, investing or anything of the like. The message said my call had been "forwarded" to this number. I didn't leave a message, but thought better of it. So, I immediately pushed redial.

This time I got a different voice mail. It was one of those generic "You have reached 2-0-5-XXX-XXXX" messages. I opted not to leave a message this time either. The third time I called was later in the day. I got a woman's voice mail. Her message sounded more like she was part of an escort service than a Michael Jones. I even double-checked to make sure I called the correct number. Yep. The last time I called, it went to a fax machine.

Sorry about that Michael Jones. I am sure you are totally credible.

This sweet postcard came from my AC company. They really are a good company, in the event you are in the market for someone to do HVAC service.

2012 Bucket List

Ok, I am writing this down in hopes I will remember--because I keep forgetting.

I need to pay property taxes tomorrow.

Plan E

It took Mr. Wonderful 32 cell phone minutes to tell me he was moving out. I had gathered this the moment the phone rang, as why else would he be calling me?

He has bought the house he mentioned to me before. I am happy for him. Mr. Wonderful is truly a nice guy. He seems to have had a bit of a struggle in years past and presumably things are looking up. Now, I don't know for sure if he has had struggles--because I refuse to get too personal with the guy. But I can guess based on life circumstances which brought him my direction. And the fact that my home in Alabaster seems to attract either Ms. Shirley crazy folks or people in life transitions.

This house isn't hard to rent. The neighborhood is quiet. The house is cute. It isn't my nicest house, but it is in the top three. Also, I get pretty decent rent at this house.

Mr. Wonderful, of course, is blissfully unconcerned about what I am facing: finding another tenant. However, for this particular house, I had a plan.

Plan A: Mr. Wonderful would show the home to prospective tenants, helping me find just the right crazy person delightful person whose life is in transition to move in.However, experience tells me tenants shouldn't show homes. Ever.

Tenants mean well of course. But tenants who are moving out get busy and then take it personally when the folks who are looking aren't always reliable and don't show up. Also, tenants might say something that may cause misunderstandings down the road. And then there is that pesky little issue of tenants thinking they are doing me a favor--which they essentially are.

So, though having Mr. Wonderful help looks like the easiest solution, it probably isn't.

Plan B: This one is a bit tricky. You see, in the past Mr. 114--the next door neighbor--has often helped me with this house. This is a much better situation because I can pay Mr. 114 and then the relationship is somewhat even.

However, it turns out Mr. 114 doesn't live next door any more. Mrs. 114 still lives next door, but I don't know her. I was somewhat aware of this situation, as Mr. Wonderful is quite chatty, but I opted to play dumb and just see if Mr. 114 might want to help me out anyway.

When I contacted Mr. 114 I found out two things: first, he doesn't want to help me rent out the home next door to his ex wife. And second: well, let me just say this, I am a divorced dad magnet. I now know many more things about a casual acquaintance than I ever wanted to know.

Plan C: A former tenant contacted me recently wanting to know if I had anything available in the area. At the time, I told them Mr. Wonderful's home might be coming available. I promised to keep them apprised. Though this seems like an easy answer on paper--instant tenant! Please note: it was my third choice and there is a reason for this. I didn't hear back from them when I broached the subject again two weeks ago, so I let it slide and didn't shed any tears.

Let's just completely gloss over Plan D: Do it myself. Frankly, it wasn't really much of a plan. This house is too far for Carolsue to help me with. And, let's face it, even though I can manage it myself, I have two property managers who are already there and can deal with the crazy calls. Mario prefers managing homes in Shelby County. However, because of a gross miscalculation of my competence on Mario's part earlier this year, I preferred to go straight to plan E.

Plan E: call Kirby. It isn't anything personal about Kirby that he is my last resort. I happen to really like the guy. It is just that this house is far from most of the others. And, I am never sure how busy he happens to be. But I e-mailed him anyway. I gave him my best, "Gee, I know this is kind of far, but I have this super-cute house in Alabaster that needs the right tenant and I am ready to loose an additional percentage of rent to have you manage it--just in case you might want to."

Kirby got back to me in record time. He looked up the house, checked out my pictures and assured me it was every bit as desirable a rental home as I promised it would be. According to Kirby, he is already working on finding a tenant and hopefully I will get this home rented quickly.

In the mean-time, Mr. Wonderful happens to be on the hook for the rent until I find a new tenant. I know this because he may have reminded me of it in one of our 30 minute chats.

Reality Check

I won't bore you with the knock-down drag out details that make an MTV reality show look tame, but Mr. Partner and the Sunshines have been at odds for months. Mr. Partner's complaints are legitimate: we aren't making money.

My response is something along the lines of, "No $^%# Sherlock. How nice of you to notice."  In fact, I am quite shocked it has taken Mr. Partner this long to catch on to this little ditty.

And, let's be reasonable here: I assure you Mr. Partner has been informed of our undercapitalized issues every step of the way. He knows rents in Birmingham have decreased about 20 percent. Unemployment in Birmingham is around 19 percent. Match that with a culture that doesn't seem to care about debts or obligations and you have the perfect storm of landlord hell.

What I find interesting about our conversations with Mr. Partner, is how clueless he seems to be each and every time we talk. It's as if he completely forgets what was said or written to him from a week earlier. Instead, he retorts with astonishment, taking it as a personal affront that this is the first time he has heard that his money is being used for such things as property taxes and home owner's insurance.

Rinse, lather and repeat.

Quite frankly, it is not just Mr. Partner's money that is being used for such endeavors. It is also Marty's and my money. It is also MY time. And, if I could humbly point out, I have at times worked two jobs just to ensure Mr. Partner's credit score stays intact and bills got paid. So, we are acutely aware of the cost and upkeep involving rental properties. Our kids know.  My bookkeeper knows. My accountant knows.

I am not sure what Mr. Partner expects at this point. Every year we have the same expenses: mortgages insurance and property tax. (And for anyone who feels pious here, Yes, I know buying an investment home for cash is the way to go. Crystal clear on that fact thankyouverymuch.). Every once in a while a potty leaks or someone moves out. It is the cost of doing business.

And, I assure you if I were to call Mr. Partner every time a tenant called me just to say, "Mr. Jones has a leaky faucet. What should we do?" Mr. Partner would come to the same conclusion I come to: get it fixed. He would make the same decision for his personal home too.

What Mr. Partner isn't saying is that property management costs us more money--money he wasn't intending to spend. This is true. Instead of consulting with Mr. Partner before I started putting homes in property management, I staged a coup. In fact, when the subject of property management first came up, Mr. Partner said no way. After a while, I found that the cost of property management is less expensive than the cost of turning over a trashed home--which is what I was getting because I was not able to effectively manage tenants from a long distance.

It isn't that Kirby and Mario get better tenants (in many cases they do), it is that there is someone right there and then who has the resources to hold tenants accountable when they move out. With me being 1,700 miles away, a tenant can take their family, but leave their garbage and make the latter my problem.

The situation with Mr. Partner has ebbed and flowed through the course of time, with Mr. Partner getting all partner-y and asking for financials and 8" x 10" color glossies every time he is asked to come up with his fair share.

And, if I could point out: we aren't making money on a monthly basis, but the assets have value. There are a few we could sell a few for a nice profit--but Mr. Partner isn't interested in selling. There are also a few we could sell for a reasonable loss too, but down the road they will again have equity.

Lest you think Mr. Partner is a complete jerk. He isn't. He and Mrs. Partner are pretty terrific people. When we started, he had a lot more landlord experience than I did and I greatly relied on his expertise. His experience, however, was managing local rentals--which right now I could do with my eyes closed and one hand tied behind my back. He has had his fair share of issues with local rentals too, but he doesn't manage as many in Phoenix as I do in Alabama so his problems aren't magnified.

We are coming to the end of another fiscal year and once again we need the funds necessary to handle his fair share of the property taxes. This isn't a shock to anyone but Mr. Partner. But I am sure he will figure out how to make this right. Because no matter how often he is shocked by what he is told, the reality isn't changing.

By the Time You Read This

I will be (or had been) sitting with my sister-in-law at some swanky mall on Wilshire Boulevard in Los Angeles. I don't care about the swanky mall (her choice for vacation destinations), whose Web site shows the same stores are also in the Phoenix Metro area. I certainly don't care about Los Angeles, which I have been waiting patiently to fall into the Pacific Ocean for quite some time (don't let me down Myans!). I do care about my sister-in-law, whom I love and adore and who took the day off to spend with Marty, the kids and I.

However, I know you don't come to my corner of cyber-space to hear about me being forced to spend Marty Sunshine's vacation in Southern California. You come here to read about the latest challenges I might be facing running an undercapitalized accidental rental business miles from my home.

There are a few items happening with the accidental business too. I have written several rough drafts of blogs that never were worthy of publishing. Perhaps after I get back from our Southern California Therapy I will feel like telling you about the demi-feud between the Partners and the Sunshines.

Or how Mr. Wonderful has designs that I am not thrilled about, and how plans A, B and C didn't pan out for me and Mr. Wonderful's home.

Or about how I was once again a magnet for another divorced dad--and keeping in the same vein how it utterly astonishes me when quasi acquaintances tell me such personal items about their lives.

Or, for that matter, how I feel about my Section 8 tenant leaving.

Or how I got another bill from Attorney Flip that is roughly equal to the National Debt from seventeen days ago.

Anyway, all these and much more to come when I am not so burned out.

Until next week!

Incompetence

Marty Sunshine recently asked me what obscure task could he help me with that would make my life easier. He was giddy with joy when I asked him to please find out about the property taxes. "That's all you need?" he naively asked.

Yep. That's what I needed.

You see, Jefferson County did not send me property tax notices this year. Some might think they did this because they are incompetent. They would be right.

So, early this morning Marty Sunshine went off to search for a phone number or any type of information whatsoever on Jefferson County's web site that would tell us exactly how much we owed. Three hours later, Marty was in a foul mood and no closer to finding what we had to pay.

There are no phone numbers on this site. There is no useful information on this site. In fact, the "old" way to look up properties--using the parcel ID number has been replaced by the "new" way to look up properties. The "new" way includes taking one's tax statement that was presumably mailed to them and typing in the "receipt" number one received on their tax statement.

In the event one didn't get a tax statement, Jefferson County has accounted for this: they have a message below the "tax receipt number look up" that says to contact their office if one needs a property tax notice. And then they give their physical address.

Marty Sunshine then went on to the most obvious way to look up properties: by address. Nope. This was a no-brainer to me, as the entire County has about four street names. For example, if you want to get to my home on King James Circle, one must go down King James Court, hang a left at King James Drive and proceed around the bend back to King James Court, until they reach King James Circle.

After about sixteen different searches, Marty found the place to input a parcel number--which has been how I looked up property tax information in the past. However, for whatever reason it wasn't working this morning. The noise you may have heard if you turned your head slightly in our direction was Marty Sunshine telling everyone how displeased he was that the parcel ID search wasn't working.

Eventually Marty settled for looking up each address by the name associated with the address. This is not an easy task when your last name is the same name as a county in Alabama and one's first name is probably one of the most common names on earth--as poor Marty's happens to be. Then there are a few homes titled to the LLCs also, those weren't as easy to find either, because instead of being classified as ABC Homes, LLC, they were listed in the system as (first name) LLC (last name) Homes (middle initial) A.

What we did find out through the course of this exercise is that Jefferson County has changed the parcel numbers for every single property we own. We now have the new parcel numbers so that this task will be much easier when I Marty does this again next year.

In the end, we decided that if we had just left everything alone Jefferson County probably would have sent us delinquent notices letting us know exactly how much we owed and what our parcel number happened to be. Or then again, maybe they wouldn't have noticed we hadn't paid.

Crying Wolf

One of the major byproducts of Landlordom is the level of astonishment I continually feel towards my tenants. Prior to the last 10 years, if you had ever suggested being a landlord includes providing free advice and/or solving personal problems of grown, (presumably) productive members' of society I would have laughed hysterically waiting for the punchline.

"No, really. The tenant expects you to what?!"

That said, I have been told all sorts of personal tidbits from tenants that blow me away, including but not limited to health challenges, love life questions, and lets not forget private issues that landed me a subpoena where I had to explain to a judge exactly what a tenant told me. And, let me tell you, the tenant was furious my memory was decent. And so was the judge.

I bring this up because of how I spent part of my weekend. My new refrigerator is coming this week. And, not a moment too soon. Sunday I spent the day cleaning up the melted goop in the bottom of my freezer. There is no question: this freezer is on life support (fortunately, the only thing being kept in this freezer at the time were ice cube trays, chocolate chips and bread). I figured this out myself. I took care of it.

Which brings me to Mrs. Green. A week ago Saturday she sent me a message about her refrigerator. I ignored it, wanting to see what "my refrigerator is acting up" really meant. However, I fully know I may eventually have to deal with this.  But here is the catch: I have heard nothing. Not text, e-mail or phone call. Nothing.

Contrast that to the Greens wanting me to drop everything and put a tarp on their roof last August. Given that I owed them a tarp at the time, I was still astonished at how little effort they were willing to go to in order to make sure their bedroom was protected from the elements. I would expect a similar panic if they didn't have a working refrigerator. But instead, it has been eerily quiet. Perhaps the refrigerator isn't really as bad as she suggested and she found her own solution.