I Hope They Aren't Looking for a Butler's Pantry or Wine Cellar Either

A long, long day. More later. But, a quick story.

As a total coincidence, while out with Kirby today, a prospective tenant called about my Alabaster house. They had just viewed the home and were "outraged" at the condition of the fourth bedroom. They said they had a strong interest in renting out the house, but demanded to know what the landlord was going to do about the floor in the fourth bedroom. Apparently, the flooring and walls were completely sub-par.

I heard Kirby tell the caller, with a bit of amusement in his voice--seeing as though I was sitting right next to him--he would be willing to check with the landlord and let the prospective tenant know what indeed I was going to do about the fourth bedroom. When he got off the phone he told me about the call, with me utterly confused.

"The house in Alabaster has only three bedrooms," I reminded him.

"I know. He swore there were four." Kirby said.

We discussed this for a minute or two, trying to belatedly decipher what on earth the caller was talking about. I was half-convinced the possible tenant just had the wrong house. After all, after personally having seen this home this weekend, an imaginary bedroom should be the least of someone's concerns. I had been sad to discover the place isn't in as tip-top shape as I was expecting. However, I happen to know, nobody added on another wing since I saw it Saturday.

I finally figured out what the issue was. The "fourth bedroom" is not a bedroom at all. It is the attic space.

The Birmingham Weekend

The only evidence left from our Anual Meeting. Minutes are titled, "What Happens in Birmingham, Stays in Birmingham"

I sadly dropped Bliz off at the airport today, wishing upon wish she could stay another day or so. I can't speak for Bliz, but I certainly had a great time driving around three counties stalking my houses on Saturday. I showed Bliz all but three--including one that was the closest to the hotel I am staying at. Go figure? When I list the five things I like about Birmingham, my friendship with Bliz is always number one.

In addition to my fabulous girl's weekend (which now includes a serious Downton Abbey addiction), I spent Sunday with Carolsue. We went to church--only because I made her. In return I was treated to a lovely lunch and great conversation (thank you Sweetie, you always make me laugh). Afterwards, I went back to the hotel room and made several phone calls and texts to finish rounding out my Birmingham visit.

One of my texts was to Mr. 114, asking if I could borrow a tape measure in the morning. Another call was to Kirby. Kirby, who manages about 200 landlords and even more properties, has in the past confided that I am his favorite. I have no idea if that is true or not, but I am open to flattery. And, in case it isn't I am bringing him Girl Scout cookies tomorrow. I also got in touch with Mrs. Green and will be inspecting her house at some early-early hour in the morning.

It is late. So, I must end this blog now, my dear three readers. I will either go to bed, get a good night's sleep and wake up refreshed and ready to start my Monday. Or, I will watch another episode of "Downton Abbey" and add a bit extra concealer under my eyes tomorrow.

Tripp'n with Bliz

By the time you read this, I will be on an airplane en route to a cold Midwestern City blanketed by Arctic weather, whereby, I will have a layover and pick up Bliz and board another airplane to Birmingham. Bliz, my dear, dear friend of way too many years, took me up on my offer to come with me to Birmingham this trip in hopes of keeping me from being arrested company.

A few weeks ago, I asked Bliz what she wanted to do while we were in Birmingham. Museums? Zoo? Nature walk? She said she wanted to see my houses. Personally, I can think of lots of other fun-fun things to do that don't involve driving into Leeds, but whatever.

Anything Bliz wants to do, short of hunting for alligators in the swamps in Alabama is fine with me. Frankly, I looked up "Things to Do In Birmingham" and didn't come up with much of a list anyway. So perhaps Leeds won't be too bad.

In years past my trips to Birmingham have been a chore. This is probably the first trip I have actually anticipated with a joyful heart. I am thrilled she is coming along for the ride.

Priorities

I am leaving for Birmingham soon. So far I have bought granola bars, checked the Alabama weather (cold and wet) and found my umbrella.

I am thinking I really should pack.

Swan Song Part 2

In the beginning of 2012, Diamond Jim sold his CPA practice to some other company and proceeded to transition his company with theirs. Presumably learning lessons from the last time he sold his business, this time he was welcomed to stayed on with the firm who bought him out, letting his clients know they would be in good hands in future years.

This time however, Diamond Jim was finally doing what he should have done years earlier--retire. Given than he is heading into his 70s, retirement makes sense. Mrs. Diamond Jim needs him. Some small obscure town in Oregon, where he now calls home, needs him too.

When Diamond Jim left for Oregon last October, we we would e-mail occasionally, with me inquiring about Ms. Diamond Jim, his children and the grand kids--Ricky and Timmy. He would ask back about Marty Sunshine, Polly and Buckaroo.

Last winter I had questions for him and he and I talked for a while about what I wanted to do. We discussed books (Me: "Killing Lincoln" Jim: "What the Dog Saw" a 680 page tome on its third renewal from the Mesa Library because I haven't started it just yet). We discussed baseball. I even congratulated him on his Oregon Ducks winning some sort of collegiate bowl game.

In late January, in our neighborhood community newsletter, there was a notice a day from someone asking if they had an accountant referral, as theirs had retired. After about six of these notices, I e-mailed Diamond Jim and shared a few of them with him. "Looks like you have left big shoes to fill." I said, not knowing if he was the accountant all of these folks were referring to.

In the beginning of February, around 7 a.m. I got a phone call from Diamond Jim. When I went to answer it, the line went dead. I called him back and he told me he must have pocked dialed me. I didn't push it, but I happen to know Diamond Jim has a touch screen phone. Pocket dialing someone with a touch screen phone is pretty much impossible. Diamond Jim did tell me, if Mrs. Diamond Jim were up to it (her health has been wavering) he was coming back for one more tax year.

As I sat down to write this blog last week, Diamond Jim called me. We caught up and decided we would both be hungry Friday morning around 6:30 a.m. How about we meet at Cindy's Cafe? I came, armed with a red velvet cupcake Buckaroo made for "Uncle Jim" and Girl Scout cookies.

The breakfast was lackluster, but the company was wonderful. Not once did we discuss taxes, but that came this past week when I showed up for the first of two tax appointments. I had never been to Diamond Jim's new offices before (last year I managed to have my taxes done through a series of breakfast meetings). The receptionist seemed truly floored when Diamond Jim came to the lobby and greeted me with the greatest of bear hugs.

During the meeting, while we were discussing my tax options, I asked if he was really, truly retiring. Not to be selfish or anything, but I need to figure out who is doing my taxes next year. I jokingly asked if they have direct flights from Phoenix into Eastern Oregon. He suggested I just fly into Portland and rent a car.

At this time, I believe Diamond Jim plans on making this the last year he commutes for tax season. He needs to focus his energy and time on other pursuits (I suggested he sell real estate in the middle of nowhere). I will miss my friend and tax advisor. But I know he has earned a quiet season in some obscure Eastern Oregon town with Mrs. Diamond Jim.

My To-Do LIst

I didn't think I had much to do in Birmingham until I started making my to-do list. Most people when they get ready to go somewhere actually pack. I blog.

So far I have made arrangements for Mr. Little to drop his keys off at my hotel.  I have a roofer lined up for my soon-to-be vacant home. I have Mr. 114 coming by to see if I can employ him and his new-fangled tractor to fix a grading issue there. I double-checked to make sure I have James-the-Hell's-Angel-Turned-Carpet-Installer's (cash only) phone number handy, in case Mr. Little is right about the flooring.

Additionally, I have warned Mrs. Green I will be swinging by to say hello. I have gotten in touch with Kirby and Daisy (Kirby's trusty assistant) about touring a few homes--including my house in Leeds and the Fultondale home, where the tenant yelled at me last time. Kirby and/or Daisy is also going to check out my vacant home with me and see what I can rent it for. In return for them taking a whole day out of their life, I will shower them with Girl Scout cookies--though they don't know it yet.

Mr. Wonderful, my former tenant, suggested I come by and say howdy. It is on the list. I have also, thanks to Carolsue, befriended a real estate agent who seems to be a go-getter. I would like him to tour my vacant home and give me an idea of what I can get for it. Also on my list is contacting Mrs. Sherwood--I still haven't written about her adventures, but let me just say I just payed the plumber and the electrician, both of whom have set up satellite offices in her basement.

For the first time since 2007, I have not told Jack I am in town. I am not sure I am ready to see him. I like him. I find he and Mrs. Jack to be great conversationalists. But, truth be told, I am not ready to field the awkward silence where he should be asking "How's the house I am no longer part owner in working out for you?" with me responding with "Vacant and needs a roof and possibly carpeting, thanks for asking".  Maybe I will change my mind, but right now I think I would like some time to pass before I broach that.

Rounding off the list is some well-deserved girlfriend time (more on that later), dinner with Carolsue--which includes peanut butter pie. I am sure there is more, but right now I need to get back to work in Arizona and prepare my clients, Girl Scouts and family for me being gone a few days.

Things Always Work Out For the Best

Mr. and Mrs. Green have been renting from me (in a house Marty Sunshine and I own without another partner) for more than three years. I know this precisely, as when I was filing the enormous stack of papers Bliz sent me the other day I found information on their credit check. Has it really been so long?

For the most part, Mr. and Mrs. Green have been good tenants. They don't call with minor dramas, and save it all for roofs caving in and other such dilemmas. I don't talk with Mrs. Green much, though I find her delightful. I happen to know she has two sons who are deployed overseas. I know she is a home-health nurse. I also know, when I mentioned to her a few months ago I had been in town over the summer, she darn near blew a gasket because I didn't stop by and introduce myself.

"You are telling me, that you came to town and didn't come by?" She asked with no small amount of outrage.

"Yes Ma'am." I answered meekly, with the mental memo that either next time I was in Birmingham I would call upon her, or I would just remember not to say anything else about future visits.

Last month, Mrs. Green sent me a text asking me to call. That is never a good sign, but I dutifully obeyed. It turns out Mrs. Green's job went away and the family of the woman she was taking care of gave Ms. Green a one hour notice her job was through. She wanted me to know she had a majority of the rent, but not all of it. And, then she let it hang with a nice pregnant pause.

What Mrs. Green did not know was Mr. Little had just given his notice a few days prior. Also, what she didn't know was cleaning up after someone has rented for years isn't a cheap process. There is painting. There is cleaning this and fixing that. All has to be painted, cleaned and repaired before a new and paying tenant can be brought in. And Mr. Little just called dibs.

Last week, I texted Mrs. Green and asked how her employment search was going. When she didn't respond for several days, I pretty much knew the answer. She finally called me a couple of days ago with the news she didn't have a job. Money was tighter than it has ever been before. I could tell she was afraid. I am afraid too.

She broke into tears when I told her I would take a token rent amount and not ask her to leave this month. However, I told her I didn't want her beholden to this house, and if she needs to move, she needs to move. I also mentioned I would be in town soon, and I would stop by and discuss her options.

I personally don't like throwing good tenants out on the street for a short-term money issue. Besides, the cost to carry a good tenant a month or two while they are getting back on their feet is much less expensive than carrying a vacant home. However, I have learned (the hard way), that when a tenant wants to leave, it is probably better just to let them go.

Perhaps His Belt Slipped?

I am not making light of the victim in this case. Assault is assault. But I can certainly understand landlord's mindset. One of the things that is the most maddening for me as a landlord is the sense of entitlement I have run into from tenants. It is one thing if a tenant looses a job or has a significant hardship. It is quite another if a tenant just wants to stick it to the "rich landlord." I have had tenants say aggravating things like, "How do you expect me to pay the rent when I have to pay the electric bill/buy school supplies for my kids/go to Vegas for the weekend?" Personally, if I were on the jury of this landlord's peers, I would be open to the temporary insanity defense.

Police: Landlord whipped tardy-paying tenant

WAYNESVILLE, Ohio (AP) -   A Warren County landlord is accused of whipping a tenant with a belt on his bare buttocks for falling behind on his rent.

Police in the village of Waynesville say 53-year-old Ron Kronenberger was charged with assault for the Jan. 22 encounter in his office. He was due in court Thursday in Warren County.

Police say Kronenberger told the 29-year-old tenant that if he was going to act like a child, he would treat him like one. He then allegedly hit him four times with a belt, leaving small marks.

Police say the tenant told them he was scared and just wanted to get it over with.

The Dayton Daily News reports Kronenberger is a former chamber of commerce president. His home phone wasn't taking messages Thursday.

(Copyright 2013 The Associated Press. All rights reserved. This material may not be published, broadcast, rewritten or redistributed.)

Swan Song (Part 1)

At the moment, I can count the number of wonderful things that have come out of me starting my accidental business on one hand. And, that list is courtesy of Bliz, who helped me compose it. I took her three items and added two more. Now, two weeks later, I am still stuck on five positive points.

One of the biggest blessings from this venture is my friendship with Diamond Jim. For those of you who aren't paying close attention, Diamond Jim is my former accountant. He is roughly my parents' ages. I am his daughter's age. However, unlike my parents, he doesn't consider me to be 11 years old. Or, if he does, he hides it well.

I met him when I first started this venture, courtesy of an unscrupulous bookkeeper. The bookkeeper in question doesn't like me very much, especially since our last encounter had to be mediated by the Arizona Attorney General's office. I won. She didn't.

But, back to Diamond Jim. Diamond Jim has been doing taxes in Mesa for 30+ years. He is well-known in the community. And, more to the point, well-respected.

He grew up in Las Vegas, post depression and has shared many colorful stories of his grandfathers and father building the Hoover Dam. As a young boy, he had extended family who lived in downtown Mesa, AZ at the time, and so he spent many vacations traipsing around Mesa--that little Mormon town thirty miles from Phoenix--visiting landmarks that aren't there any more. At 16, his family spent a summer on the Navajo reservation, just a little bit East of the Grand Canyon. And his college years were in central California (Cal Poly I believe--but I can't remember which school is north of Santa Barbara). He likes baseball, reading and anything related to the Oregon Ducks. About six years ago, he retired from taxes, sold his business and was planning on living happily ever after.

And, this is how we became friends. Long before we met on a regular basis for breakfast, one February, Diamond Jim invited me to a formal breakfast with another investor. He knew I was looking for creative ways to refinance many of my properties. He knew a guy who had gone through something similar. And hence, Diamond Jim thought the two of us should meet and swap ideas. It was a nice gesture from Diamond Jim the accountant and business acquaintance not Diamond Jim I know now who has been known to call me up and ask questions about the Harry Potter series, if you see my point.

So, at breakfast everyone was on their best behavior, until a sticky philosophical point came up and the other gentleman and I ended up just agreeing to disagree, both of us not wanting to embarrass Jim, and me most especially wanting to have Jim walk away from this breakfast not thinking I was a raving lunatic (as this particular random topic we had hit upon happened to be something related to the activities going on next door to my home.). I am a pleaser at heart and I wanted Diamond Jim to think I had the grace and class to let this one go. So, I played a "bless your heart" card to the gentleman and, for Jim's sake, let the other man win the round.--though I was proven right later in life. Too bad I didn't get a chance to gloat.

Also that same morning, unbeknownst to me, Diamond Jim had sold his CPA practice. As part of the merger there was a plan in place for Diamond Jim and the CPA firm to make a pleasant experience for Diamond Jim's clients of 30+ years. Part of Diamond Jim's duties would be to tell his solid client base this was his last tax year, introduce them to the company taking over and make it a good transition for Jim's clients.

The morning of our breakfast, while the other dining companion and I were respectfully debating zoning law for my next door neighbor's home, Diamond Jim said nothing about his current  merging. Later that day, I stopped by to drop off some tax documents, only to find out the company that had merged with Diamond Jim summarily dismissed him 37 seconds after the ink in their contract was dry.

Me, having seen Jim earlier that morning was surprised. What? Diamond Jim wasn't there? I had seen him an hour or two before! The battle axe of a woman who answered my questions was to the point and lacked any bedside manner necessary to make those of us getting our taxes done feel the least bit at ease. ("No, he doesn't work here any more" and "How nice you saw him two hours before now--but that was two hours ago.") The battle ax certainly didn't give me any reassurances Jim was safe, secure and/or happy. I did leave that conversation with that wretched woman with two absolutes I knew that morning: I don't like change. And, I was pretty sure, given how I was treated in the 10 seconds I spent in the lobby of Jim's former office I wasn't getting my taxes done from this new accounting firm. I went home, mulled over my choices and told Marty about the bizarre exchange I had with the woman running the office.

As a rule, people who work on taxes don't tend to be warm and fuzzy, but one would think they might try harder when they are picking up a practice that arguably includes the Who's Who of  what is now the third largest city in Arizona. Marty Sunshine wasn't thrilled either with what I shared with him so, he took over. He marched back over to the office and asked for our tax records.

That's when it got dicey. The battle axe had a title of "office manager" (mind you, this had been a one man show up until about 9 a.m. that morning, now there were six people milling around) and was apparently having a bad day. She greeted Marty Sunshine with the same contempt given to the school cafeteria lunch lady who sticks something green and slimy on a child's food tray. Staring at Marty Sunshine, she stated that my tax records were her property and she would burn in hell before she parted with them.

Marty Sunshine told her if that was the case and she wasn't parting with them, he bid her a safe trip, suggested she bring sun block and left the office. I, in turn, did my homework. I wrote a nice letter demanding my files. Just to make sure everyone knew I wanted my files, I cc'd the Arizona Board of Accountancy, citing what rules she was breaking.

There was a hearing. The day of the hearing, while the hearing was going on, I got a phone call from some muckety-muck at the Board of Accountancy's office suggesting everything would be smoothed over and how sorry he was for the clowns who bought Diamond Jim's practice holding my files (in the middle of the hearing!!!!).

Eventually I got my files and the woman who started this mess lost her job. The other byproducts from this experience was Diamond Jim ended up coming out of retirement three weeks later and managed to get 90 percent of his clientele back. The company still had to pay him for the purchase of his tax practice too.

And of course, our friendship was born.

I have always felt bad that I was the catalyst for Diamond Jim not retiring. He was ready. He earned it. Though, I have to tell you there were a lot of happy people who were more than happy he didn't. Diamond Jim is still ready to retire. Heaven knows he has been trying to do so. There were a couple of years when he commuted from some small obscure town in Eastern Oregon to Mesa for tax season. And, there were a few years where he just gave up the whole "commute thing" and stayed in Mesa for the entirety of tax season.

And then last year, he sold his firm again.

To be continued...

I am Sure This Is Completely Legit

A very long time ago, I blogged about how I accidentally sent the Post Office an erroneous (and significant) amount of money. The Post Office, catching the error sent the check back. Now all is well.

Today I got the following comment. I am so glad the reader's life is now worth living. Or so I presume.

"I must express my appreciation to you for rescuing me from this scenario. After surfing through the the net and obtaining methods that were not productive, I believed my entire life was well over. Living devoid of the strategies to the problems you have sorted out by way of your website is a crucial case, as well as the ones that would have in a wrong way damaged my entire career if I hadn't come across your blog post. Your own skills and kindness in dealing with every aspect was crucial. I'm not sure what I would've done if I hadn't come upon such a subject like this. I am able to at this moment relish my future. Thanks a lot so much for this impressive and effective guide. I will not hesitate to refer your web sites to anybody who would need tips on this matter."

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.