Tuesday, April 07, 2015
National Carolsue Day
Happy Birthday to my dear friend Carolsue. You are are one of the high points of my accidental business. Because if I never invested in Alabama, I never would have met you and my life would have been much, much more dull. Love to you.
Monday, April 06, 2015
Opening Day
Today is the first day of the 2015 Arizona Diamondbacks season. I have personally asked the Diamondbacks for a winning year as a special birthday wish. I am writing this before first pitch, so I can say--at least right now--they are undefeated.
Today is also opening day for my home in North Centerpoint. It is officially for sale. A short sale. You see, the second mortgage was called due. Marty and I rallied back and forth with the bank since last September and the result was the destruction of a mid-sized rainforest, ample frustration and blog fodder for the past six months. Last week I spoke to the asset manager who told me to short sell the house or pay off the second mortgage. They won't do a deed in lieu of foreclosure--which was my first choice. He made it perfectly clear: they don't want the home either.
Kirby listed the house for me. He sent me the listing today and actually made the home sound wonderful. Who wouldn't want to purchase this place for $40k under what we paid for it? A bargain at half the price.
I am somewhat numb about the entire short sale issue. I have had time to think about it, process everything and get used to the idea of having fledgling credit and potential creditors calling my home.
This is the home I liked the least. Sadly, the home I liked the most--the one in Pinson--will also be a short sale in a month or so. I have equated this process to a cortisone shot: it stings like a bitch going in, and then the pain goes away. Maybe by Opening Day next year I can be writing about more happy topics.
Today is also opening day for my home in North Centerpoint. It is officially for sale. A short sale. You see, the second mortgage was called due. Marty and I rallied back and forth with the bank since last September and the result was the destruction of a mid-sized rainforest, ample frustration and blog fodder for the past six months. Last week I spoke to the asset manager who told me to short sell the house or pay off the second mortgage. They won't do a deed in lieu of foreclosure--which was my first choice. He made it perfectly clear: they don't want the home either.
Kirby listed the house for me. He sent me the listing today and actually made the home sound wonderful. Who wouldn't want to purchase this place for $40k under what we paid for it? A bargain at half the price.
I am somewhat numb about the entire short sale issue. I have had time to think about it, process everything and get used to the idea of having fledgling credit and potential creditors calling my home.
This is the home I liked the least. Sadly, the home I liked the most--the one in Pinson--will also be a short sale in a month or so. I have equated this process to a cortisone shot: it stings like a bitch going in, and then the pain goes away. Maybe by Opening Day next year I can be writing about more happy topics.
Wednesday, March 25, 2015
Random Bama
It turns out the deadbeats in my Pinson have officially been evicted. However, they aren't out last I heard. Apparently I need to fork out more money to pay the local sheriff to kick them out to the curb. That's tomorrow's task.
I am overwhelmed at the kindness from those of you who have reached out to me to see if I was ok about what is going on in our accidental business. I am at peace with everything going on. At least right now.
And thank you for asking. Today I am fine. I am aware it will probably get worse before it gets better.
I had lunch with Mr. Partner yesterday. Though he is intimately aware of our situation, he seems to be of the opinion we can salvage the home in Pinson. "File and insurance claim!" was his mantra. I think (and I didn't want to burst Mr. Partner's optimistic outlook) we can file a claim, make some of the repairs and still loose this house. Time will tell. First the idiots need to leave.
I spent part of my day with Diamond Jim working on tax issues today. Our taxes are complicated. I am a reasonable record keeper, but more with an artistic flair. Nor do I care if this or that is missing--which apparently can be a big issue. This does not work well for Diamond Jim, who told me I was driving him bonkers. He certainly wasn't winning any Mr. Congeniality awards either today, but I give him leeway: he is over 70, working 13 hours a day and he lost his wife less than three months ago.
The Arizona Diamondbacks look to be pretty crummy this year. I am hoping, though my expectations are low, they figure out how to pleasantly surprise me.
_____________________________________________________
I am overwhelmed at the kindness from those of you who have reached out to me to see if I was ok about what is going on in our accidental business. I am at peace with everything going on. At least right now.
And thank you for asking. Today I am fine. I am aware it will probably get worse before it gets better.
_____________________________________________________
I had lunch with Mr. Partner yesterday. Though he is intimately aware of our situation, he seems to be of the opinion we can salvage the home in Pinson. "File and insurance claim!" was his mantra. I think (and I didn't want to burst Mr. Partner's optimistic outlook) we can file a claim, make some of the repairs and still loose this house. Time will tell. First the idiots need to leave.
_____________________________________________________
I spent part of my day with Diamond Jim working on tax issues today. Our taxes are complicated. I am a reasonable record keeper, but more with an artistic flair. Nor do I care if this or that is missing--which apparently can be a big issue. This does not work well for Diamond Jim, who told me I was driving him bonkers. He certainly wasn't winning any Mr. Congeniality awards either today, but I give him leeway: he is over 70, working 13 hours a day and he lost his wife less than three months ago.
_____________________________________________________
The Arizona Diamondbacks look to be pretty crummy this year. I am hoping, though my expectations are low, they figure out how to pleasantly surprise me.
Sunday, March 22, 2015
Preparing for the Worst
There is an odd mindset when one surrenders to financial ruin. When the realization came about months ago, Marty Sunshine and I sat down and said to each other, "what do we want to do?" And oddly, the first priority was taking what might be our last vacation for a while. We wanted the kids to have a good memory.
Yes, I know "financial ruin" is temporary. Marty has a job. I have a real estate business. We will survive. We will bounce back. But there will be lawyers involved (there already are). There will be--and this daunts me the most for some reason--creditors calling, asking why the hell we went from 800 FICOs to not paying our bills. And for no earthly reason they can fathom.
We aren't "not paying our bills" exactly. We are choosing not to go into further debt to keep two homes which are in serious disarray from situations out of our control--either because the bank has chosen to give us hell for the past six months or because a tenant did the same. Either way, after a lot of evaluation, prayer and muttering to ourselves, this is the path we have taken.
I can promise you, this isn't a decision we took lightly. The emotional aspect of our choice has taken a toll too. I have went from looking myself in the mirror, knowing I was an upstanding citizen who did what was right and now I have the eerie feeling I can't shake that I am a mere deadbeat. A bum. And--this bothers me the most--someone who doesn't keep their word.
One of the questions LegalOwl (my new legal counsel at Attorney Flip's office) asked me is if Mr. Partner was on board with this. The exact answer is yes and no. His credit will not be harmed by our actions. He understands we are going to do this. And he also sees the reasons why. Essentially, if we wanted to fight for these homes, he would back us and help us hold lemonade stands and garage sales (which is what it would take to find the funds we needed to go forward). If we want to let them go, he will do that too. He is also tired and broke.
There is a saying in the South, "Things can only go up from here." I believe this is true. I don't know what "financial ruin" will look like in this accidental business. If we will keep all but two homes or if we will loose everything. But in the end, I believe letting these two homes go and the potential looming bankruptcy that will probably follow for us is going to be for the best.
Yes, I know "financial ruin" is temporary. Marty has a job. I have a real estate business. We will survive. We will bounce back. But there will be lawyers involved (there already are). There will be--and this daunts me the most for some reason--creditors calling, asking why the hell we went from 800 FICOs to not paying our bills. And for no earthly reason they can fathom.
We aren't "not paying our bills" exactly. We are choosing not to go into further debt to keep two homes which are in serious disarray from situations out of our control--either because the bank has chosen to give us hell for the past six months or because a tenant did the same. Either way, after a lot of evaluation, prayer and muttering to ourselves, this is the path we have taken.
I can promise you, this isn't a decision we took lightly. The emotional aspect of our choice has taken a toll too. I have went from looking myself in the mirror, knowing I was an upstanding citizen who did what was right and now I have the eerie feeling I can't shake that I am a mere deadbeat. A bum. And--this bothers me the most--someone who doesn't keep their word.
One of the questions LegalOwl (my new legal counsel at Attorney Flip's office) asked me is if Mr. Partner was on board with this. The exact answer is yes and no. His credit will not be harmed by our actions. He understands we are going to do this. And he also sees the reasons why. Essentially, if we wanted to fight for these homes, he would back us and help us hold lemonade stands and garage sales (which is what it would take to find the funds we needed to go forward). If we want to let them go, he will do that too. He is also tired and broke.
There is a saying in the South, "Things can only go up from here." I believe this is true. I don't know what "financial ruin" will look like in this accidental business. If we will keep all but two homes or if we will loose everything. But in the end, I believe letting these two homes go and the potential looming bankruptcy that will probably follow for us is going to be for the best.
Wednesday, March 18, 2015
Everything That Glitters...
Through the course of this accidental business, I had become fond of one specific home. In fact, I recently joked with Mr. Partner that I, being the youngest of us four partners, was going to out-live the rest of them, acquire the LLC by default and retire in this particular house.
The Pinson home is nestled in the mountains. The home has a fabulous front porch that spans the property's length. The home itself is rather cozy. It is a three bedroom, two bathroom of about 1,400 square feet with a two-car garage in the basement. I should mention the front of the home at the top of the hill, the garage and basement nestled into the hill with the back deck overlooking the two acres with the pond. All of this is exotic to me, a city-girl who has always wanted to live on a mountain in the woods with a view overlooking some water.
Last summer, a husband, wife and two itty-bitty toddlers moved in. They had gone through the vetting process. In fact, the husband's credit score was in the mid-to-high 600s. They had the income to qualify and nothing suggested there would be a problem.
It is now March. And there is a problem. They never paid rent. And, the eviction process is still ongoing. It makes me ill to write this. Just ill. Apparently the husband is no longer employed and has "anger issues." He has beaten the hell out of his wife. In fact, I am told (by her) he has gone so far as to hide in the attic when the wife is gone, and when the she returns to what she thinks is a quiet home with her two children, he pops out of the attic only to break down my doors, smash my windows and do God knows what to those babies and their mama.
The house is in utter disarray. For one thing. The husband drove his truck through the garage door, so now the garage is boarded up. The electricity and water are off (though we found a generator hidden outside) and the electric box is hanging from a few wires to the wall. There are rotted food everywhere. In fact, the glass from one of the broken windows is still on the ground, right in reach of the toddlers.
When we arrived last week to inspect, the wife let us in, gave us a song and dance about how she is moving out last week (of course she is!) and let us look around at the utter filth she is living in. Part of me--the part that wants to take those children home with me--felt for her. I listened to her story and believed her life is really the train wreck she made it out to be. That lasted about 15 seconds until sanity sunk in and became so angry I had to step outside before I lost it with her.
She and her idiot husband (wherever he might be--she says they are now estranged) have been stealing from me for months. They have trashed this home. Even when they move out, I will have lawyers to pay. Insurance may pay for a broken window and an electrical box, but insurance isn't going to give me enough to remove the rats that have made themselves at home in the basement from all the filth. Insurance won't give me enough to replace the flooring that is covered with moldy food, cigarette burns and whatever else disgusting things might be on there. Insurance isn't going to cover the corner of the basement I am presuming the woman is using for her personal toilet (we accidentally found that spot). And, insurance isn't going to reimburse me for my now-faded dream of retiring in this home.
In fact, this home is so bad, we probably won't recover from it. I had that inkling going over there (and hence, one of the main reasons for my trip). My worst fears were confirmed. The house will most likely be going back to the bank.
It is just a home. Our credit will bounce back eventually. We may invest again. Maybe. Maybe not.
The Pinson home is nestled in the mountains. The home has a fabulous front porch that spans the property's length. The home itself is rather cozy. It is a three bedroom, two bathroom of about 1,400 square feet with a two-car garage in the basement. I should mention the front of the home at the top of the hill, the garage and basement nestled into the hill with the back deck overlooking the two acres with the pond. All of this is exotic to me, a city-girl who has always wanted to live on a mountain in the woods with a view overlooking some water.
Last summer, a husband, wife and two itty-bitty toddlers moved in. They had gone through the vetting process. In fact, the husband's credit score was in the mid-to-high 600s. They had the income to qualify and nothing suggested there would be a problem.
It is now March. And there is a problem. They never paid rent. And, the eviction process is still ongoing. It makes me ill to write this. Just ill. Apparently the husband is no longer employed and has "anger issues." He has beaten the hell out of his wife. In fact, I am told (by her) he has gone so far as to hide in the attic when the wife is gone, and when the she returns to what she thinks is a quiet home with her two children, he pops out of the attic only to break down my doors, smash my windows and do God knows what to those babies and their mama.
The house is in utter disarray. For one thing. The husband drove his truck through the garage door, so now the garage is boarded up. The electricity and water are off (though we found a generator hidden outside) and the electric box is hanging from a few wires to the wall. There are rotted food everywhere. In fact, the glass from one of the broken windows is still on the ground, right in reach of the toddlers.
When we arrived last week to inspect, the wife let us in, gave us a song and dance about how she is moving out last week (of course she is!) and let us look around at the utter filth she is living in. Part of me--the part that wants to take those children home with me--felt for her. I listened to her story and believed her life is really the train wreck she made it out to be. That lasted about 15 seconds until sanity sunk in and became so angry I had to step outside before I lost it with her.
She and her idiot husband (wherever he might be--she says they are now estranged) have been stealing from me for months. They have trashed this home. Even when they move out, I will have lawyers to pay. Insurance may pay for a broken window and an electrical box, but insurance isn't going to give me enough to remove the rats that have made themselves at home in the basement from all the filth. Insurance won't give me enough to replace the flooring that is covered with moldy food, cigarette burns and whatever else disgusting things might be on there. Insurance isn't going to cover the corner of the basement I am presuming the woman is using for her personal toilet (we accidentally found that spot). And, insurance isn't going to reimburse me for my now-faded dream of retiring in this home.
In fact, this home is so bad, we probably won't recover from it. I had that inkling going over there (and hence, one of the main reasons for my trip). My worst fears were confirmed. The house will most likely be going back to the bank.
It is just a home. Our credit will bounce back eventually. We may invest again. Maybe. Maybe not.
Monday, March 09, 2015
Monday
If I write too much right now, it will just be a whiny blog about how tired and sick I am. I really am missing the moments of gratitude in this trip. And, I know it. But I don't feel gratitude. I feel tired. And sick.
And whiny.
I purposely don't allow myself to engage in pity-parties on a regular basis. But lately I have felt one brimming to the surface, like a boiling pot with a lid affixed tightly. Earlier today, when I was on an emotional low, I called Carolsue to cheer me up. Just being in the same town as her brings me comfort.
There. A gratitude.
Today was a mixed day. My homes in Shelby County were in great shape. I could not ask for better, stable tenants who are happy and love where they live. Luigi and Willy were friendly and gracious hosts. The afternoon's adventures were not as wonderful and overshadowed the whole day. For that matter, they have overshadowed the last two months. I will write more on that later.
Also, because I was the passenger and didn't have much of a choice, visited an attorney of Luigi's who was assisting him in some business. I zoned out in the office, thinking of days gone by and how Birmingham "used to be" for me. This particular attorney knew Late Attorney Jon. In the past, there had been a couple of times Late Attorney Jon suggested I call this guy when something was out of Jon's scope of reference. This attorney was also the closing attorney for one of my homes back in the day--though I don't know if he would remember me. Probably not. But he runs in the same circles as the folks I used to deal with.
Watching the lawyer today got me thinking. And made me a bit sad for Late Attorney Jon's family. I wasn't expecting that. I knew I would have to deal with this later this week (I am visiting Attorney Flip's office Wednesday), but this was a double blow to the sucker punch that was my afternoon.
Right now I am on my way to dinner. Then bed. Perhaps with some food in my system and an alka-seltzer or two, I might feel a bit more grateful.
Wait. It looks like I did write too much.
And whiny.
I purposely don't allow myself to engage in pity-parties on a regular basis. But lately I have felt one brimming to the surface, like a boiling pot with a lid affixed tightly. Earlier today, when I was on an emotional low, I called Carolsue to cheer me up. Just being in the same town as her brings me comfort.
There. A gratitude.
Today was a mixed day. My homes in Shelby County were in great shape. I could not ask for better, stable tenants who are happy and love where they live. Luigi and Willy were friendly and gracious hosts. The afternoon's adventures were not as wonderful and overshadowed the whole day. For that matter, they have overshadowed the last two months. I will write more on that later.
Also, because I was the passenger and didn't have much of a choice, visited an attorney of Luigi's who was assisting him in some business. I zoned out in the office, thinking of days gone by and how Birmingham "used to be" for me. This particular attorney knew Late Attorney Jon. In the past, there had been a couple of times Late Attorney Jon suggested I call this guy when something was out of Jon's scope of reference. This attorney was also the closing attorney for one of my homes back in the day--though I don't know if he would remember me. Probably not. But he runs in the same circles as the folks I used to deal with.
Watching the lawyer today got me thinking. And made me a bit sad for Late Attorney Jon's family. I wasn't expecting that. I knew I would have to deal with this later this week (I am visiting Attorney Flip's office Wednesday), but this was a double blow to the sucker punch that was my afternoon.
Right now I am on my way to dinner. Then bed. Perhaps with some food in my system and an alka-seltzer or two, I might feel a bit more grateful.
Wait. It looks like I did write too much.
Sunday, March 08, 2015
I Only Came Up With Five Items On My List
I am sitting in my lonely hotel room in Birmingham. Today was a short day because Alabama is one of those states which celebrates Daylight Savings the first Sunday in March by lopping off an hour of their day. Thus all the clocks told me I woke up earlier than I really did. I am definitely drained.
And, if you must know, I seem to have a terrible ear infection and am vacillating between going to the urgent care to see if there is anything--anything--some medical professional can do so I don't have to fly back to Phoenix with an ear infection or ignoring it and hoping the flight back later this week isn't as bad as the flight out--which was a bitch. I don't recommend flying with an ear infection. Ever.
Today started with church and a drive through Homewood where I followed my GPS to find Luigi's office. I am pleased to see he isn't spending a lot of his owners' money on overhead. That really isn't sarcasm. I work in a small property management office of similar ilk. There really is no need for flashy digs. Tenants don't see where their rent check goes every month. I am sure there is a market for travertine floors and posh interiors located in high-end zip codes, but I am more practical. I like simple and the exterior of Luigi's office didn't disappoint.
After that I met Carolsue at her lovely home where she showed me some of the treasures she is finding from local estates. And from there, we swung by Baseball Guy's home and went on a road trip. I am pleased to see Ms. Angie is taking great care of her home. I am even more pleased to see she wasn't out in the front yard as I drove by. Though I like Ms. Angie, I didn't want to stop in for two hours and visit.
Our next stop was my vacant-home-in-North-Centerpoint-where-the-second-mortgage-has-been-called-due house. Flunky had been kind enough to give me the code to the vendor box (not that the back door wasn't unlocked by Baseball Guy two weeks ago and before that Kirby, both who have visited this home for me in the past month). The Section 8 tenant left the house a mess. Just an utter mess. I am not sure why Section 8 feels the tenant deserves her deposit back. I am dragging Luigi by there tomorrow. The house is in disrepair, but it appears to be cosmetic. It still doesn't change the fact: if the home is going back to the bank, I am not fixing anything. And, I can't rent the house until the home is fixed.
The next leg of our trip was up to Pinson, where I checked on my "I really am moving out and please call off the eviction" house. The tenant is still there. She also has bags, upon bags of trash all over the outside of the home. They moved in last summer and haven't paid a dime. They have also broken off the garage door and now it is plywooded over. The woman looked comfortable there. Too comfortable. The entire scenario makes me ill.
Our last spot on the tour was Mrs. Sherwood's home. Mr. Sherwood was outside and I opted not to slow down, as again I wasn't in the mood for a social call. But the house looks good. No complaints. Thus far.
Dinner tonight was with Kirby and Mrs. Kirby.
Last week Marty asked me to give my top 10 favorite things about Birmingham. Carolsue, Baseball Guy and Kirby were on the list. All were part of my day today. All make this trip much more bearable.
And, if you must know, I seem to have a terrible ear infection and am vacillating between going to the urgent care to see if there is anything--anything--some medical professional can do so I don't have to fly back to Phoenix with an ear infection or ignoring it and hoping the flight back later this week isn't as bad as the flight out--which was a bitch. I don't recommend flying with an ear infection. Ever.
Today started with church and a drive through Homewood where I followed my GPS to find Luigi's office. I am pleased to see he isn't spending a lot of his owners' money on overhead. That really isn't sarcasm. I work in a small property management office of similar ilk. There really is no need for flashy digs. Tenants don't see where their rent check goes every month. I am sure there is a market for travertine floors and posh interiors located in high-end zip codes, but I am more practical. I like simple and the exterior of Luigi's office didn't disappoint.
After that I met Carolsue at her lovely home where she showed me some of the treasures she is finding from local estates. And from there, we swung by Baseball Guy's home and went on a road trip. I am pleased to see Ms. Angie is taking great care of her home. I am even more pleased to see she wasn't out in the front yard as I drove by. Though I like Ms. Angie, I didn't want to stop in for two hours and visit.
Our next stop was my vacant-home-in-North-Centerpoint-where-the-second-mortgage-has-been-called-due house. Flunky had been kind enough to give me the code to the vendor box (not that the back door wasn't unlocked by Baseball Guy two weeks ago and before that Kirby, both who have visited this home for me in the past month). The Section 8 tenant left the house a mess. Just an utter mess. I am not sure why Section 8 feels the tenant deserves her deposit back. I am dragging Luigi by there tomorrow. The house is in disrepair, but it appears to be cosmetic. It still doesn't change the fact: if the home is going back to the bank, I am not fixing anything. And, I can't rent the house until the home is fixed.
The next leg of our trip was up to Pinson, where I checked on my "I really am moving out and please call off the eviction" house. The tenant is still there. She also has bags, upon bags of trash all over the outside of the home. They moved in last summer and haven't paid a dime. They have also broken off the garage door and now it is plywooded over. The woman looked comfortable there. Too comfortable. The entire scenario makes me ill.
Our last spot on the tour was Mrs. Sherwood's home. Mr. Sherwood was outside and I opted not to slow down, as again I wasn't in the mood for a social call. But the house looks good. No complaints. Thus far.
Dinner tonight was with Kirby and Mrs. Kirby.
Last week Marty asked me to give my top 10 favorite things about Birmingham. Carolsue, Baseball Guy and Kirby were on the list. All were part of my day today. All make this trip much more bearable.
Wednesday, March 04, 2015
Random Bama
The representative for the second-mortgage-who-called-our-loan-due called today. He wanted to tell us they didn't need anything else from us at this time and our file is "under review." He would let us know if anything changed, so there was no reason to contact him.
Not that we had the representative's name or number before today.
Luigi sent me an e-mail yesterday suggesting he would like to go with me to my homes when I inspect them during my upcoming Birmingham trip. Of course, it never occurred to me he wouldn't be coming with me. I have no desire to show up on any tenant's door, announce I am the owner and then have the tenant go off on every.little.thing they want, or feel they deserve. That's why I have Luigi in the first place. He gets to take the abuse with me.
I have finally done something to prepare for my trip. I bought mascara and an umbrella.
Not that we had the representative's name or number before today.
__________________________________________________________________
Luigi sent me an e-mail yesterday suggesting he would like to go with me to my homes when I inspect them during my upcoming Birmingham trip. Of course, it never occurred to me he wouldn't be coming with me. I have no desire to show up on any tenant's door, announce I am the owner and then have the tenant go off on every.little.thing they want, or feel they deserve. That's why I have Luigi in the first place. He gets to take the abuse with me.
__________________________________________________________________
Tuesday, March 03, 2015
Disorganized
Typically when when one is planning on traveling, they actually do something constructive about it. You know, pack, verify flights/hotel/car. They may possibly check out reviews of restaurants, book a tour (or if traveling to parts seriously unknown, a tour guide) and ensure the accommodations they are expecting to get at their desired destination will indeed be there.
So far I have checked the weather, made the property management scramble and begged my broker to take the on-call phone away from me. Actually, I have done a bit more than that. I have also contacted two real estate agents to discuss ways to sell my Leeds home. I have e-mailed Carolsue to make sure I have some one to play with for (at least) one of my days there. And, I have scanned Yahoo Maps to see if there are any exits off of Highway 280 to the property management office.
I did put some thought into what kind of "Arizona" gift I could bring to those I am meeting. If it were closer to Holiday season, I might have considered an Arizona Highways calendar. At this moment, I am at a loss and decided to go empty-handed. I am sure I am breaching some sort of Southern protocol showing up empty-handed. It even feels awkward to show up without something. But unless I have divine inspiration, it just isn't happening.
Eventually I need to pack. Or do laundry so I can pack. And perhaps I should figure out when my flight is taking off.
So far I have checked the weather, made the property management scramble and begged my broker to take the on-call phone away from me. Actually, I have done a bit more than that. I have also contacted two real estate agents to discuss ways to sell my Leeds home. I have e-mailed Carolsue to make sure I have some one to play with for (at least) one of my days there. And, I have scanned Yahoo Maps to see if there are any exits off of Highway 280 to the property management office.
I did put some thought into what kind of "Arizona" gift I could bring to those I am meeting. If it were closer to Holiday season, I might have considered an Arizona Highways calendar. At this moment, I am at a loss and decided to go empty-handed. I am sure I am breaching some sort of Southern protocol showing up empty-handed. It even feels awkward to show up without something. But unless I have divine inspiration, it just isn't happening.
Eventually I need to pack. Or do laundry so I can pack. And perhaps I should figure out when my flight is taking off.
Friday, February 27, 2015
The Bless Your Heart Trip
At the pleading bribing request of Mr. Partner, Marty Sunshine and my ulcer, I am going to Birmingham shortly. I knew this was coming. To be honest, like most trips, in the time leading up to my arrival, I am not quite sure while I am bothering. After all, I have boots on the ground. I have a property management company with questionable levels of competence. I have a few tenants and former tenants who have graciously helped me out in a bind here and there.
But back to my trip. I managed to e-mail Luigi I was coming around 10 p.m. my time one night. By 6:30 a.m. my time the next morning, it was Slick Willy who e-mailed me back, saying some platitude about how excited he was to meet me. Luigi also wrote some similar sentiment, but probably changed his mind when he and I talked later in the week and he got a general gist of why I was going out there.
I don't expect to see Ms. Angie or Mrs. Sherwood, neither of whose homes are in property management. Though I would love to see them, they don't cause me any grief. Besides, I have superstitious tendencies that suggest if I show up, all might change. And, to be fair, I can only understand about a third of what Ms. Angie says.
So, I now have Willy scrambling to make appointments with the tenants. That will eat up a couple of days. In there somewhere I have an appointment or two. I am meeting Kirby and Mrs. Kirby for dinner one night. I am also visiting with Carolsue, whom I adore. I believe Carolsue is also plotting for ways for us to get potentially arrested. She is good at that. I don't adore that part, but it is inevitable.
What I really want are some intangibles. What is my going on with my homes? Are my tenants happy and planning on staying another year or so? Is there any maintenance that needs to happen that Flunky, Luigi's maintenance dork, hasn't mentioned. What am I going to do about my vacant home where the mortgage company has called the loan due? And, what is going on with my eviction? (Yea, I have one of those, I haven't written much about it because it upsets me greatly, but it is always top of mind). All of these questions can be answered--and have been answered to one degree or another--but a little face time never hurts. And perhaps, I won't have to utter "Bless Your Heart" too many times.
But back to my trip. I managed to e-mail Luigi I was coming around 10 p.m. my time one night. By 6:30 a.m. my time the next morning, it was Slick Willy who e-mailed me back, saying some platitude about how excited he was to meet me. Luigi also wrote some similar sentiment, but probably changed his mind when he and I talked later in the week and he got a general gist of why I was going out there.
I don't expect to see Ms. Angie or Mrs. Sherwood, neither of whose homes are in property management. Though I would love to see them, they don't cause me any grief. Besides, I have superstitious tendencies that suggest if I show up, all might change. And, to be fair, I can only understand about a third of what Ms. Angie says.
So, I now have Willy scrambling to make appointments with the tenants. That will eat up a couple of days. In there somewhere I have an appointment or two. I am meeting Kirby and Mrs. Kirby for dinner one night. I am also visiting with Carolsue, whom I adore. I believe Carolsue is also plotting for ways for us to get potentially arrested. She is good at that. I don't adore that part, but it is inevitable.
What I really want are some intangibles. What is my going on with my homes? Are my tenants happy and planning on staying another year or so? Is there any maintenance that needs to happen that Flunky, Luigi's maintenance dork, hasn't mentioned. What am I going to do about my vacant home where the mortgage company has called the loan due? And, what is going on with my eviction? (Yea, I have one of those, I haven't written much about it because it upsets me greatly, but it is always top of mind). All of these questions can be answered--and have been answered to one degree or another--but a little face time never hurts. And perhaps, I won't have to utter "Bless Your Heart" too many times.
Wednesday, February 18, 2015
Hobson's Choice
There are some interesting factors involved with this house where the mortgage is called due. First, when one has superior credit, the mortgage company doesn't necessarily believe the mortgage holder (us) will actually follow through with having a home returned. After all, it isn't in our nature. Marty is telling them, "we are giving you the home back." The mortgage company is saying, "Of course you are..." (nudge, nudge, wink, wink).
The other interesting aspect is that the mortgage company doesn't appear to want the home back. We happen to be the most upside down on this particular property than all of the rest. It will be painful for them. Frankly, it will be painful for all of us. When we have broached the subject with our representative at the mortgage company, they say, "Now wait a minute... Don't be so hasty, we are working with you." Which really isn't true.
Additionally, the home is vacant. And, according to Flunky (the property management's maintenance guy), the home is in disrepair. So, there is no money coming in to cover the repairs or the mortgage.
When Slick Willy (my contact at the property management company), emailed me a few weeks ago he asked me what I was going to do about the work that needed to be done at the house. I told him then, I didn't have the money to fix up the house. Willy didn't offer any solutions. Willy didn't say, "what can you afford." Willy did nothing.
Fast forward to yesterday. Willy sent me an email. He said, "We have a deposit on your house. Will you be remodeling it?" Mind you, he didn't call me. Mind you, the house has not been advertised (I checked). Mind you, there is no sign in the front yard (I also checked). Mind you, a deposit means I would have approved a tenant and the rental price.
I told Marty I didn't believe Willy. If he had a potential tenant, he would have called. If he had a potential tenant--who had put down a deposit--that means they would have approved the home in the condition it is in (which, by the way, I have heard from another source over there--who may or may not have gone through the unlocked back door--that the home is in reasonable condition and does not need thousands in repairs).
Here's the rub: until the mortgage company agrees to fix our loan they called due, we are at an impasse. We can't rent the house out if the mortgage company is going to take it back. We can't update the home because the home is vacant and there is no sense in putting money into the property if the mortgage company is going to take it back. In fact, we can't afford to pay the mortgage on it any more. And, if we can't pay the mortgage, we will loose the home.
The other interesting aspect is that the mortgage company doesn't appear to want the home back. We happen to be the most upside down on this particular property than all of the rest. It will be painful for them. Frankly, it will be painful for all of us. When we have broached the subject with our representative at the mortgage company, they say, "Now wait a minute... Don't be so hasty, we are working with you." Which really isn't true.
Additionally, the home is vacant. And, according to Flunky (the property management's maintenance guy), the home is in disrepair. So, there is no money coming in to cover the repairs or the mortgage.
When Slick Willy (my contact at the property management company), emailed me a few weeks ago he asked me what I was going to do about the work that needed to be done at the house. I told him then, I didn't have the money to fix up the house. Willy didn't offer any solutions. Willy didn't say, "what can you afford." Willy did nothing.
Fast forward to yesterday. Willy sent me an email. He said, "We have a deposit on your house. Will you be remodeling it?" Mind you, he didn't call me. Mind you, the house has not been advertised (I checked). Mind you, there is no sign in the front yard (I also checked). Mind you, a deposit means I would have approved a tenant and the rental price.
I told Marty I didn't believe Willy. If he had a potential tenant, he would have called. If he had a potential tenant--who had put down a deposit--that means they would have approved the home in the condition it is in (which, by the way, I have heard from another source over there--who may or may not have gone through the unlocked back door--that the home is in reasonable condition and does not need thousands in repairs).
Here's the rub: until the mortgage company agrees to fix our loan they called due, we are at an impasse. We can't rent the house out if the mortgage company is going to take it back. We can't update the home because the home is vacant and there is no sense in putting money into the property if the mortgage company is going to take it back. In fact, we can't afford to pay the mortgage on it any more. And, if we can't pay the mortgage, we will loose the home.
Sunday, February 15, 2015
Yep, That Happened
The saga of the second mortgage being called due has reached new depths. For those of you who need a refresher, we have a second mortgage that has been called due--though we don't know why. We always paid on time. Always. The mortgage company has asked for the balance of the loan. When we explained we didn't have it, they asked for a mountain of paperwork. We have reasonably complied, figuring this was a no-brainer.
We are now in month five of this saga. The mortgage company is asking for redundant paperwork. We have already given them tax returns, bank statements and our "hardship letter." Twice. In fact, in our hardship letter, we explained that the only real hardship was that they called the mortgage due. If they hadn't done that, there would be no hardship.
Two weeks ago, we provided them with the latest bank statements they asked for. We explained they are modifying a second mortgage. The home is upside down. It is vacant. We even said we don't care if they just take the house back if it is that important to them.
The mortgage company followed that up with a personal phone call from a dude named Joe. The poor guy actually called Marty wanting to make nice and find a reasonable solution. He said they just needed one teeny-tiny item from us and then they could wrap this up. And if we could just comply with this one itsy-bitsy request, we would be on our way.
They want Polly's bank account information for the past sixty days.
For those of you who aren't aware, Polly is my 14 year old daughter. And in the event anyone is slightly confused on our stance on this particular request, it is totally unreasonable. Instead of complying a letter came from Marty. He wrote:
Marty then told them if they find our stance unacceptable, let us know, they can have the keys back. We are done.
We are now in month five of this saga. The mortgage company is asking for redundant paperwork. We have already given them tax returns, bank statements and our "hardship letter." Twice. In fact, in our hardship letter, we explained that the only real hardship was that they called the mortgage due. If they hadn't done that, there would be no hardship.
Two weeks ago, we provided them with the latest bank statements they asked for. We explained they are modifying a second mortgage. The home is upside down. It is vacant. We even said we don't care if they just take the house back if it is that important to them.
The mortgage company followed that up with a personal phone call from a dude named Joe. The poor guy actually called Marty wanting to make nice and find a reasonable solution. He said they just needed one teeny-tiny item from us and then they could wrap this up. And if we could just comply with this one itsy-bitsy request, we would be on our way.
They want Polly's bank account information for the past sixty days.
For those of you who aren't aware, Polly is my 14 year old daughter. And in the event anyone is slightly confused on our stance on this particular request, it is totally unreasonable. Instead of complying a letter came from Marty. He wrote:
"You have recently called a loan due and we have repeatedly complied with your redundant requests for bank information, tax information and other essential documents. Recently, you requested bank statements for the last 60 days of my minor-child's bank account. I will not be providing this information for the following two reasons:
1. My name is not on this bank account,
2. And more importantly, it is none of your business if my daughter, neighbor or arch enemy has a bank account. People other than me have bank accounts."
Wednesday, February 11, 2015
The Flunky
My biggest beef with Luigi's company right now isn't Slick Willy--though he is a close second. It is Flunky--Luigi's maintenance supervisor. Flunky is a passive-aggressive asshat who suffers from severe Napoleon complex.
And those are his good points.
Flunky and I have been going round and round for the past few months with various issues, all of which make me dislike him even more. I have been tempted to say something to Luigi, but I don't know their relationship and the concrete facts I could toss Luigi's way demonstrate more of Flunky's need for an Emily Post Book than incompetence.
Flunky, who has apparently flunked out of charm school, will call me but not leave messages. He will call several times until I ultimately call him back. He will then act like we don't know each other and introduce himself once again. This happens even when we have talked earlier in the day about the same home.
Flunky also talks to me like I am a complete idiot. I am not a sensitive person, and I have had Marty listen in just to be sure. Marty assures me I am not wrong. Flunky will say something like, "You know, how when water flows through a pipe there has to be pressure to move the water out, and when there is a breach in the pipe this doesn't happen?"
"You mean we have a leaky pipe?" I asked.
Flunky doesn't like to be corrected. He has been known to call Marty Sunshine with the exact same news but say, "Hey, you have a leaky pipe." He has done this on two separate occasions.
Also, I am pretty sure Flunky is paid on a commission or some sort of kick-back for work he does on owner properties. Recently, Flunky was a bit unhappy when I asked him to get a second opinion for an issue I was having because I felt his quote was too high. In fact, he was so pissy about it, he "forgot" to call my plumber for three days.
Fortunately, I called my plumber immediately. And I called Luigi--just to make sure the tenants were taken care of--which didn't make Flunky very happy either. And by the way, my second opinion was 40 percent lower. After that was settled, Flunky wouldn't schedule the job because I didn't pay in advance. So, I called the plumber, made payment arrangements and then e-mailed Luigi and Flunky and said, "Great news! The payment is now taken care of. Please start the work."
Just because he is a colossal jerk, Flunky sent me disturbing pictures of one of my homes on Christmas Eve. I haven't written about this particular nightmare, but I assure you, sending me these photos on Christmas Eve was in bad taste. These are pictures Luigi hasn't even wanted to send me.
Last month, my home in North Centerpoint came vacant (this is the one the bank has called the mortgage due and the Section 8 tenant no longer lives there). Flunky didn't send me pictures until Willy mentioned it to him--while Willy was on the phone with me. A week later I got pictures, along with a note saying they need money to fix the place up. My response was Flunky has known the home was vacant for the past two weeks, he has gone into the home repeatedly (according to the e-mails I have received) and yet I have not been given a quote for the repairs. So, I see no reason to send random amounts of money until he has done his due diligence. Could I please get that first? I haven't heard back. He might still be looking up the word, "diligence."
This past week a tenant had a problem with their gas fireplace. Flunky's answer was to write me, call me Susan (which isn't my name) and then ask me what I wanted to do. He didn't give me a price, a solution or any type of useful information whatsoever to allow me to make an informed decision. Instead of writing the guy back, I called Kirby and asked him to look at the issue. I then wrote both back and told them to coordinate the repair.
Today Flunky wrote me, "Hey Susan" asking if the fireplace work was completed. How would I know? I don't live there. And I suggested to Flunky that perhaps he could make a few phone calls and find out, after all, I didn't feel the need to catch the next flight out to do his job. But I promise, I said it much more politely than that.
In truth, I am running out of patience with Flunky. And I am getting to the point where I am thinking about flying out to Birmingham so that Flunky and I can have a face-to-face "Bless your heart," kind of chat.
And those are his good points.
Flunky and I have been going round and round for the past few months with various issues, all of which make me dislike him even more. I have been tempted to say something to Luigi, but I don't know their relationship and the concrete facts I could toss Luigi's way demonstrate more of Flunky's need for an Emily Post Book than incompetence.
Flunky, who has apparently flunked out of charm school, will call me but not leave messages. He will call several times until I ultimately call him back. He will then act like we don't know each other and introduce himself once again. This happens even when we have talked earlier in the day about the same home.
Flunky also talks to me like I am a complete idiot. I am not a sensitive person, and I have had Marty listen in just to be sure. Marty assures me I am not wrong. Flunky will say something like, "You know, how when water flows through a pipe there has to be pressure to move the water out, and when there is a breach in the pipe this doesn't happen?"
"You mean we have a leaky pipe?" I asked.
Flunky doesn't like to be corrected. He has been known to call Marty Sunshine with the exact same news but say, "Hey, you have a leaky pipe." He has done this on two separate occasions.
Also, I am pretty sure Flunky is paid on a commission or some sort of kick-back for work he does on owner properties. Recently, Flunky was a bit unhappy when I asked him to get a second opinion for an issue I was having because I felt his quote was too high. In fact, he was so pissy about it, he "forgot" to call my plumber for three days.
Fortunately, I called my plumber immediately. And I called Luigi--just to make sure the tenants were taken care of--which didn't make Flunky very happy either. And by the way, my second opinion was 40 percent lower. After that was settled, Flunky wouldn't schedule the job because I didn't pay in advance. So, I called the plumber, made payment arrangements and then e-mailed Luigi and Flunky and said, "Great news! The payment is now taken care of. Please start the work."
Just because he is a colossal jerk, Flunky sent me disturbing pictures of one of my homes on Christmas Eve. I haven't written about this particular nightmare, but I assure you, sending me these photos on Christmas Eve was in bad taste. These are pictures Luigi hasn't even wanted to send me.
Last month, my home in North Centerpoint came vacant (this is the one the bank has called the mortgage due and the Section 8 tenant no longer lives there). Flunky didn't send me pictures until Willy mentioned it to him--while Willy was on the phone with me. A week later I got pictures, along with a note saying they need money to fix the place up. My response was Flunky has known the home was vacant for the past two weeks, he has gone into the home repeatedly (according to the e-mails I have received) and yet I have not been given a quote for the repairs. So, I see no reason to send random amounts of money until he has done his due diligence. Could I please get that first? I haven't heard back. He might still be looking up the word, "diligence."
This past week a tenant had a problem with their gas fireplace. Flunky's answer was to write me, call me Susan (which isn't my name) and then ask me what I wanted to do. He didn't give me a price, a solution or any type of useful information whatsoever to allow me to make an informed decision. Instead of writing the guy back, I called Kirby and asked him to look at the issue. I then wrote both back and told them to coordinate the repair.
Today Flunky wrote me, "Hey Susan" asking if the fireplace work was completed. How would I know? I don't live there. And I suggested to Flunky that perhaps he could make a few phone calls and find out, after all, I didn't feel the need to catch the next flight out to do his job. But I promise, I said it much more politely than that.
In truth, I am running out of patience with Flunky. And I am getting to the point where I am thinking about flying out to Birmingham so that Flunky and I can have a face-to-face "Bless your heart," kind of chat.
Thursday, January 22, 2015
A Sad Post
I am sad tonight. Diamond Jim called me earlier today. Yesterday he was flying from his home in Eastern Oregon to Phoenix to tackle another tax season. When he landed, he got the news: his bride of many, many years passed away. So, he immediately flew back to Portland, met up with his adult son who lives there and then they drove four hours back to his Eastern Oregon home. When I talked to him earlier, he was just about numb, not really having time to process all that goes with loosing a loved one.
I had known Mrs. Diamond Jim. She was his office manager for the first several years I visited his practice. She was smart and made me (and probably everyone else she met) feel at ease, as if we were long-lost friends. I liked her quick wit and loved her sense of humor.
As time went on, when Mr. and Mrs. Diamond Jim decided to "retire" they bought a home in some small, obscure town (which was Mrs. Diamond Jim's childhood hometown) to live out their golden years. A series of unfortunate events has kept Diamond Jim from officially retiring, with him choosing to spend the three coldest of the Eastern Oregon months here in sunny Mesa, filing taxes.
Anyway, Diamond Jim has been a regular on this blog. Some of you three readers have even had the exceptional opportunity to meet him. He is hurting tonight. I am saddened by his loss. The only thing I could offer my friend when I spoke was cliche'd platitudes and prayers. And he, being the gracious man he is, said thank you and asked me if I would call him again.
I had known Mrs. Diamond Jim. She was his office manager for the first several years I visited his practice. She was smart and made me (and probably everyone else she met) feel at ease, as if we were long-lost friends. I liked her quick wit and loved her sense of humor.
As time went on, when Mr. and Mrs. Diamond Jim decided to "retire" they bought a home in some small, obscure town (which was Mrs. Diamond Jim's childhood hometown) to live out their golden years. A series of unfortunate events has kept Diamond Jim from officially retiring, with him choosing to spend the three coldest of the Eastern Oregon months here in sunny Mesa, filing taxes.
Anyway, Diamond Jim has been a regular on this blog. Some of you three readers have even had the exceptional opportunity to meet him. He is hurting tonight. I am saddened by his loss. The only thing I could offer my friend when I spoke was cliche'd platitudes and prayers. And he, being the gracious man he is, said thank you and asked me if I would call him again.
Friday, January 16, 2015
Slick Willy
Willy, my new contact at the property management company, has not been terrible. He hasn't been wonderful either. However, I knew I had heard his name before. And after a bit of research, I figured out where: he was my contact the last month I had Hysteria Lane in Mario's clutches. The sum-total of my communication with the guy when he worked for Mario was one e-mail (where he addressed me as "Hey",) and him telling me he would rent out my home as soon as he could. However, he only showed it to one person for the entire month.
The reason I remember him, is that Mario insisted Willy was my contact over there. Mario was actually unhappy I kept contacting Mario asking for information and not Willy because I couldn't get any information from Willy. And, when I forwarded Mario the one e-mail I had gotten from the guy, Mario back-pedaled.
Anyway, I told Willy I knew he worked for Mario--I figure he knew he worked for Mario and he must have known who I was prior to last week, so let's just address the ugly elephant in the room, shall, we? Willy, to his credit, was upfront. He said he hadn't been a good fit over there. He also said he was looking forward to better opportunities working for Luigi, including--and I am not making garbage up--working with "savvy investors" like myself.
Oh brother.
Frankly, the fact he ignored my home last July and his actions are ultimately what cost Mario my business isn't playing in his favor. But right now I am going to go with this because Luigi trusts him. But unfortunately, I don't.
The reason I remember him, is that Mario insisted Willy was my contact over there. Mario was actually unhappy I kept contacting Mario asking for information and not Willy because I couldn't get any information from Willy. And, when I forwarded Mario the one e-mail I had gotten from the guy, Mario back-pedaled.
Anyway, I told Willy I knew he worked for Mario--I figure he knew he worked for Mario and he must have known who I was prior to last week, so let's just address the ugly elephant in the room, shall, we? Willy, to his credit, was upfront. He said he hadn't been a good fit over there. He also said he was looking forward to better opportunities working for Luigi, including--and I am not making garbage up--working with "savvy investors" like myself.
Oh brother.
Frankly, the fact he ignored my home last July and his actions are ultimately what cost Mario my business isn't playing in his favor. But right now I am going to go with this because Luigi trusts him. But unfortunately, I don't.
Thursday, January 15, 2015
Brother Of The Year
Dear Joe,
May I call you Joe? You don't know me, but I wrote you once before. If you would like me to refresh your memory, please feel free to go here. I'll wait. Take your time.
When we last conversed, you were living in a home owned by Mitch and Tonya, these awesome people who were your defacto landlords. You are the felonious brother of Lisa--Mitch and Tonya's true tenant--whom you were subletting from. I know you are aware of who Mitch and Tonya are. And if you weren't aware prior to last week, I am guessing about 11:16 last Monday you got a phone call from Lisa, after she left the court house, filling you in on her morning's adventures.
You see, last week, Lisa had to go to court. Mitch and Tonya sued her for damages in their home. In return, Lisa was a bit pissy because she thought it wasn't very nice that she hadn't gotten her security deposit returned and elected to counter-sue them for a few hundred dollars.
But the truth is, you weren't very nice to Mitch and Tonya's home. Not only did you let your daughter's turtle die in her aquarium, you also poured the aquarium gravel down the bathroom drain. And the plumbing is probably the least of Mitch and Tonya's issues.
During the court hearing, Tonya outlined their position very clearly: Lisa didn't leave the house in the same condition she received it. There were pictures to prove this. There were e-mails from Lisa saying she would honor the terms of the lease and Mitch and Tonya could count on her. There were even e-mails from Lisa, stating she would fix all of your damages and leave the house in tip-top shape when "she" vacated. Unfortunately she didn't check with you prior to this, to make sure you were both on the same page. It might have saved her a bit of money. And, there were also receipts presented to the judge showing the amount of work needed to bring the house back up to habitable condition--though in my estimation, Mitch and Tonya should have asked for more money.
Joe, when it came time for your dear sister to defend herself and explain how she was indeed the one wronged because she hadn't seen a lick of her security deposit returned to her, she forgot to do so. I sat in the hard bench seat, watching her give her entire defense, which consisted of about 17 minutes of her babbling different variations of "I am a single mother." I personally thought the teary eyes were a nice touch. And of course she concluded her soliloquy with an old standby used by victims everywhere: this whole legal proceeding just wasn't "fair."
As a last ditch effort to see that justice was served (and let's face it, nail her coffin shut), Lisa had hastily made a list of what she thought she might be responsible for (actually what she thought you were responsible for) and what she didn't think she should pay for. Lisa never got around to explaining to the judge exactly why she was expecting her deposit back. And that's too bad. I really wanted to hear her side of the story and see how she was going to go about it without admitting she had blatantly lied to Mitch and Tonya and sublet their home.
Eventually Joe, I was asked to speak to the judge. Although Tonya had eloquently covered all the main points, I was happy to re-iterate a few things I felt the judge hadn't completely grasped. For example the holes in the walls weren't just tiny nail holes. They were large enough for burrowing animals to have nested. And these holes are in every wall in every room.
And, Your Honor, please understand these three-to-five inches across holes were filled with some sort of chewing gum-type substance and painted over. Someone (and we just happen to believe it was you, Joe) took the time to make that mess. And someone (and we know it wasn't you, Joe) had to scoop that goop out, replace those pockets of drywall and repaint.
Then there was the damage to the garage ceiling. It wasn't just a "tiny spot" that Lisa could have possibly have neglected to miss--which is what she claimed to the judge during her tearful counter-suit. But, in fact, the damage spanned the entire length of the garage. And, it was obvious. And it was expensive to fix.
Joe, I have two brothers. I cannot image them screwing me over the way you did this to your sister. I won't say she didn't have it coming by lying to Mitch and Tonya and letting you live in their home, especially because she knew what kind of person you were prior to the time she signed the lease. But that said, I am saddened you live your life in a way, and Lisa lives her life in such a way that she had to spend her morning in front of a judge defending herself because of your actions.
Lisa now has other issues because of this racket too. First, Mitch and Tonya want their money. They will be garnishing your sister's wages. I am sure she will discuss this thoroughly with you for quite a long time.
Then there is the fact Lisa now has a judgement on her record. She better be very comfy where she is living now because these shenanigans have ultimately black-listed her from renting any time soon again. Landlords don't appreciate tenants who have harmed another landlord. What is she going to say to a prospective landlord by way of an explanation about this judgement? Because I am pretty sure the "I am a single mom" defense won't work any better in the future than it did last time she used it.
Sincerely,
The Landlord
May I call you Joe? You don't know me, but I wrote you once before. If you would like me to refresh your memory, please feel free to go here. I'll wait. Take your time.
When we last conversed, you were living in a home owned by Mitch and Tonya, these awesome people who were your defacto landlords. You are the felonious brother of Lisa--Mitch and Tonya's true tenant--whom you were subletting from. I know you are aware of who Mitch and Tonya are. And if you weren't aware prior to last week, I am guessing about 11:16 last Monday you got a phone call from Lisa, after she left the court house, filling you in on her morning's adventures.
You see, last week, Lisa had to go to court. Mitch and Tonya sued her for damages in their home. In return, Lisa was a bit pissy because she thought it wasn't very nice that she hadn't gotten her security deposit returned and elected to counter-sue them for a few hundred dollars.
But the truth is, you weren't very nice to Mitch and Tonya's home. Not only did you let your daughter's turtle die in her aquarium, you also poured the aquarium gravel down the bathroom drain. And the plumbing is probably the least of Mitch and Tonya's issues.
During the court hearing, Tonya outlined their position very clearly: Lisa didn't leave the house in the same condition she received it. There were pictures to prove this. There were e-mails from Lisa saying she would honor the terms of the lease and Mitch and Tonya could count on her. There were even e-mails from Lisa, stating she would fix all of your damages and leave the house in tip-top shape when "she" vacated. Unfortunately she didn't check with you prior to this, to make sure you were both on the same page. It might have saved her a bit of money. And, there were also receipts presented to the judge showing the amount of work needed to bring the house back up to habitable condition--though in my estimation, Mitch and Tonya should have asked for more money.
Joe, when it came time for your dear sister to defend herself and explain how she was indeed the one wronged because she hadn't seen a lick of her security deposit returned to her, she forgot to do so. I sat in the hard bench seat, watching her give her entire defense, which consisted of about 17 minutes of her babbling different variations of "I am a single mother." I personally thought the teary eyes were a nice touch. And of course she concluded her soliloquy with an old standby used by victims everywhere: this whole legal proceeding just wasn't "fair."
As a last ditch effort to see that justice was served (and let's face it, nail her coffin shut), Lisa had hastily made a list of what she thought she might be responsible for (actually what she thought you were responsible for) and what she didn't think she should pay for. Lisa never got around to explaining to the judge exactly why she was expecting her deposit back. And that's too bad. I really wanted to hear her side of the story and see how she was going to go about it without admitting she had blatantly lied to Mitch and Tonya and sublet their home.
Eventually Joe, I was asked to speak to the judge. Although Tonya had eloquently covered all the main points, I was happy to re-iterate a few things I felt the judge hadn't completely grasped. For example the holes in the walls weren't just tiny nail holes. They were large enough for burrowing animals to have nested. And these holes are in every wall in every room.
And, Your Honor, please understand these three-to-five inches across holes were filled with some sort of chewing gum-type substance and painted over. Someone (and we just happen to believe it was you, Joe) took the time to make that mess. And someone (and we know it wasn't you, Joe) had to scoop that goop out, replace those pockets of drywall and repaint.
Then there was the damage to the garage ceiling. It wasn't just a "tiny spot" that Lisa could have possibly have neglected to miss--which is what she claimed to the judge during her tearful counter-suit. But, in fact, the damage spanned the entire length of the garage. And, it was obvious. And it was expensive to fix.
Joe, I have two brothers. I cannot image them screwing me over the way you did this to your sister. I won't say she didn't have it coming by lying to Mitch and Tonya and letting you live in their home, especially because she knew what kind of person you were prior to the time she signed the lease. But that said, I am saddened you live your life in a way, and Lisa lives her life in such a way that she had to spend her morning in front of a judge defending herself because of your actions.
Lisa now has other issues because of this racket too. First, Mitch and Tonya want their money. They will be garnishing your sister's wages. I am sure she will discuss this thoroughly with you for quite a long time.
Then there is the fact Lisa now has a judgement on her record. She better be very comfy where she is living now because these shenanigans have ultimately black-listed her from renting any time soon again. Landlords don't appreciate tenants who have harmed another landlord. What is she going to say to a prospective landlord by way of an explanation about this judgement? Because I am pretty sure the "I am a single mom" defense won't work any better in the future than it did last time she used it.
Sincerely,
The Landlord
Wednesday, January 14, 2015
Musings of a Crazed SECOND Mortgage Holder
Marty Sunshine called the mortgage company today. The same mortgage company which called a SECOND mortgage due on a home we are significantly upside down on. The same mortgage company which holds a SECOND mortgage on a vacant property. The same SECOND mortgage company that has been asking for a ridiculous amount of redundant paper and for the past several months has found creative ways to say "hold on, we will let you know if we have modified your loan... eventually."
Last week this mortgage company asked for financial profit and loss statements for the first week of January, 2015. However, they did not want our bank statements for December. This week they decided they do indeed want our bank statements for December. Please send them over as soon as possible. Thanks.
"What happens if they decide they aren't going to refinance this mortgage?" I asked Marty tonight. I have asked Marty various versions of this question for the past several months, with him giving me some sort of happy rendition of, "It will all work out." Ironically, Marty won't let me ask the mortgage company this question. Nor will he ask them either. So, I really don't know what will happen if they get sick of this stupid fetchquest game they are putting us through.
I have imagined all sorts of scenarios of what I would truly like to say to the bank. Unfortunately, every scenario seems to end with me facing a jury of my peers. My true peers of course, will be folks in a similar situation who managed to keep it together while they were randomly tortured by an impersonal entity whose sole purpose was to ruin rainforests and drive somewhat once-sane people crazy. Surely those peers will really understand.
Last week this mortgage company asked for financial profit and loss statements for the first week of January, 2015. However, they did not want our bank statements for December. This week they decided they do indeed want our bank statements for December. Please send them over as soon as possible. Thanks.
"What happens if they decide they aren't going to refinance this mortgage?" I asked Marty tonight. I have asked Marty various versions of this question for the past several months, with him giving me some sort of happy rendition of, "It will all work out." Ironically, Marty won't let me ask the mortgage company this question. Nor will he ask them either. So, I really don't know what will happen if they get sick of this stupid fetchquest game they are putting us through.
I have imagined all sorts of scenarios of what I would truly like to say to the bank. Unfortunately, every scenario seems to end with me facing a jury of my peers. My true peers of course, will be folks in a similar situation who managed to keep it together while they were randomly tortured by an impersonal entity whose sole purpose was to ruin rainforests and drive somewhat once-sane people crazy. Surely those peers will really understand.
Tuesday, January 13, 2015
I Am Pretty Sure He Only Listened When I Said I Am Buying Airfare
Luigi has passed me over to a new property manager dude at his office. And, because I am out of Mario the video game references (Mario, Luigi, Kirby and Daisy for those of you keeping track), we will just call this guy Slick Willy--or Willy for short.
Last week Willy and I played phone and e-mail tag, with him leaving me a message. Me returning it, giving him a reasonable range of when he could call to reach me and Willy ultimately ignoring my time frame and trying again when I was my most busy. Lather, rinse repeat.
Finally on Thursday we connected, with him beginning to tell me about what he felt needed to be "done" with my homes. I guess nobody over there warned him that I wasn't the average pushover, because he seemed a bit taken back when I corrected him and told him what I felt needed to be done with my homes.
First on my list is get my vacant one rented. Then find out why my tenant in Chalkville is moving next month and what can be done to keep her. Then update me on the eviction and destroyed home over there (I haven't written about that drama. Just not up to it right now). And then, when those meager tasks are complete, sell my home in Leeds. And, if possible, could you please give me comps on a couple of others. No hurry on the comps. I am just curious and would like someone else's opinion. What I didn't say was I wanted someone else's qualified opinion. But maybe I should have elaborated. My mistake.
Before hanging up, Willy shot through a good sixteen platitudes in about four minutes flat, promised me I would see all of the above and plenty more in my e-mail before close of business on Friday and wished me well. He may have sealed it with some sort of additional "you can count on me" speech. But I can't be sure.
I hung up our call with trepidation and fear, figuring that would be the last I would hear from Willy for a good three weeks. But, he didn't disappoint. He sent me all I asked for first thing Tuesday morning. Of course, unbeknown to him, I wasn't really available Tuesday morning. I was busy with 12 kids at a homeless shelter and didn't really get around to reading his e-mail until after noon some time.
Additionally, I hadn't exactly absorbed his e-mail when he called me an hour later with his version of great news. He had a buyer for my home in Moody. Yep. He found an investor who would buy it for $60k. He expected the contract any minute. Wasn't he just the best guy ever?
Maybe Willy is the best guy ever. Maybe he isn't. I do know nowhere did I say I wanted to give a home away for $60k. And yes, of course he could give me an offer on any of my homes at that price because it is worth significantly more than that.
When I started to explain to Willy I wasn't interested in selling the home in Moody for such a low price and I knew the house was worth more, he stopped me, giving me the same speech I share with those who think Zillow is a National treasure. Except I didn't use Zillow to find my comps. As a licensed agent, I have other tools at my disposal to run comps--even in other markets--which are more accurate than Zillow. Actually my cat could give more accurate comps than Zillow, but my true opinions of Zillow can wait until another blog.
Willy, who was expecting adulation and Heavenly praise for finding a buyer so fast for a home that wasn't in Leeds (and I didn't want to sell), took my reproach well. I did explain it wasn't my intention to professionally embarrass him by allowing him to find someone to bring me a low-ball offer (though I didn't "allow", but thought this might just ease the tension). I wanted a fair price for my homes. I don't want to give them away. Willy stammered though his explanation for way too long and I dropped it. I did suggest he could offer the same investor the home on Leeds, because that is the one I want sold. Just in case he missed that part of our conversation last week.
Willy didn't really have much else to say about my properties until I threw this bomb at him: I intend to fly out as soon as my eviction home is vacant. After a week of knowing this guy, I am thinking he would be much happier and would prefer I stayed right here.
Last week Willy and I played phone and e-mail tag, with him leaving me a message. Me returning it, giving him a reasonable range of when he could call to reach me and Willy ultimately ignoring my time frame and trying again when I was my most busy. Lather, rinse repeat.
Finally on Thursday we connected, with him beginning to tell me about what he felt needed to be "done" with my homes. I guess nobody over there warned him that I wasn't the average pushover, because he seemed a bit taken back when I corrected him and told him what I felt needed to be done with my homes.
First on my list is get my vacant one rented. Then find out why my tenant in Chalkville is moving next month and what can be done to keep her. Then update me on the eviction and destroyed home over there (I haven't written about that drama. Just not up to it right now). And then, when those meager tasks are complete, sell my home in Leeds. And, if possible, could you please give me comps on a couple of others. No hurry on the comps. I am just curious and would like someone else's opinion. What I didn't say was I wanted someone else's qualified opinion. But maybe I should have elaborated. My mistake.
Before hanging up, Willy shot through a good sixteen platitudes in about four minutes flat, promised me I would see all of the above and plenty more in my e-mail before close of business on Friday and wished me well. He may have sealed it with some sort of additional "you can count on me" speech. But I can't be sure.
I hung up our call with trepidation and fear, figuring that would be the last I would hear from Willy for a good three weeks. But, he didn't disappoint. He sent me all I asked for first thing Tuesday morning. Of course, unbeknown to him, I wasn't really available Tuesday morning. I was busy with 12 kids at a homeless shelter and didn't really get around to reading his e-mail until after noon some time.
Additionally, I hadn't exactly absorbed his e-mail when he called me an hour later with his version of great news. He had a buyer for my home in Moody. Yep. He found an investor who would buy it for $60k. He expected the contract any minute. Wasn't he just the best guy ever?
Maybe Willy is the best guy ever. Maybe he isn't. I do know nowhere did I say I wanted to give a home away for $60k. And yes, of course he could give me an offer on any of my homes at that price because it is worth significantly more than that.
When I started to explain to Willy I wasn't interested in selling the home in Moody for such a low price and I knew the house was worth more, he stopped me, giving me the same speech I share with those who think Zillow is a National treasure. Except I didn't use Zillow to find my comps. As a licensed agent, I have other tools at my disposal to run comps--even in other markets--which are more accurate than Zillow. Actually my cat could give more accurate comps than Zillow, but my true opinions of Zillow can wait until another blog.
Willy, who was expecting adulation and Heavenly praise for finding a buyer so fast for a home that wasn't in Leeds (and I didn't want to sell), took my reproach well. I did explain it wasn't my intention to professionally embarrass him by allowing him to find someone to bring me a low-ball offer (though I didn't "allow", but thought this might just ease the tension). I wanted a fair price for my homes. I don't want to give them away. Willy stammered though his explanation for way too long and I dropped it. I did suggest he could offer the same investor the home on Leeds, because that is the one I want sold. Just in case he missed that part of our conversation last week.
Willy didn't really have much else to say about my properties until I threw this bomb at him: I intend to fly out as soon as my eviction home is vacant. After a week of knowing this guy, I am thinking he would be much happier and would prefer I stayed right here.
Monday, January 12, 2015
Vacant
My Section 8 tenant moved out last week. She left the home in reasonable shape, though I am wondering what is wrong with the garage door and why she re-keyed the front door. It isn't wonderful, but not trashed either.
My new contact at Luigi's office tells me I can get about $150 more a month for this house--which is about what I was getting prior to the days it was a Section 8 house. Hopefully it will be rented soon.
My new contact at Luigi's office tells me I can get about $150 more a month for this house--which is about what I was getting prior to the days it was a Section 8 house. Hopefully it will be rented soon.
Nope, Not Done
Two weeks ago--in December, the bank asked for new financial statements, up to and including December 30, 2014. Last week they asked for new financial statements up to and including January 9, 2015. It appears the only one who is working on this damn file is Bliz--who keeps taking up her weekend to give me new financial documents.
Last week when the bank once again asked for updated financial documents they did not ask for updated bank statements. So, I didn't send them. However, I am guessing they will ask for them some time this week. Oddly enough, the bank gets pissy when I send over unsolicited paper--like bank statements--that I know they will ask for in a day or so. How dare I second-guess them?
In other news, the other loan this particular mortgage company opted to modify without our knowledge went though. The payment is actually $30 more a month. Yay us. Now if they would just finish this first one.
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)