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the avra valley dispatch: 6 June 2004 --
Life Lessons
Number One and Two (Number Two includes a Proposition for the Public
at Large)
Did you know that miniature cyclones disguised as mischievous puffs of dirt -- "dust devils" -- are capable of ripping your carport roof right off, sending it up and over your barn, peeling the barn roof back like a sardine can in the process, and flinging it one hundred feet away, severing several trees in the process?
Indeed -- it's true!
It was really the most hilarious thing I'd seen in a long time -- 400 square feet of corrugated steel crumpled up in the gully like a burrito wrapper, the odd barn beam poking out, fluorescent light fixtures swaying in the breeze. I collapsed in a fit of giggles and then wandered around the wreck wide eyed in wonder, exclaming "Whoa!" and "Dude, intense!" and "Holy cow!"
My reaction indicates that I'm either firmly on the path, or out of my gourd...perhaps both.
But, really -- no one was hurt or killed, nothing was damaged, and it didn't happen a week later when I would have been on my way to Haleiwa to bake on the beach and eat shave ice (see: May's Four Letter Desination Part Two: Oahu). And! I have two friends who happily came by on a Saturday morning and fixed everything better than it was in return for turkey sandwiches and ice cream and the opportunity to listen to Dad's old jazz records.
Life Lesson Number One: It could have been worse.
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Yesterday, an eviction notice was taped to my door. Never a good sign, particularly when you are the owner of said door. It turned out to be for my heretofore believed to be low key and well behaved rear renters.
The Palm Harbor on the rear acre is not glamouous -- it's a 20 year-old trailer home with the brown shag and panelling to prove it -- but it was clean and cute, and when I bought this property, in much better shape than my own House of Squalor.
I entrusted the management of the property, screening of renters, and collection of rent to one firm that did a serviceable job, but who later handed me off to another firm that I can't say thrills me.
In the year that the renters -- Brian and Rita Smith, hello: you owe me a month's rent! -- were there, they were total slobs (down to feathers and birdpoo all over) and left all sorts of garbage on the surrounding acre, then left under the dark of night. I went back there, eviction notice in hand, to find an empty house, (yet another!) abandoned washing machine, and a three-wheeled, unbitchin' Camaro with expired plates in the front yard. And who can forget the always classic Toilet Left Outside...?
So much for putting my faith in a property management firm (and renters, for that matter) -- the place is now totally unrentable. Well, at least without several weekend's work of clean up, painting, and replacing of the bathroom floor. (What is it with renters and their aversion to shower curtains??)
I've always been very DIY, albeit with some hesitation since it's a blessing and it's a curse. A curse because I'm sure I've missed out on plenty of opportunities by not occasionally putting absolute faith and trust in someone else and a blessing because it's turned me into a reasonably kickass take no prisoners girl. (Buster, bless his drunken old soul told me today, "I think you have too much testosterone for a husband.")
Which brings me to the Propositions for the Public at Large.
Idea number one: I sell the Palm Harbor as-is-you-haul and maybe later perhaps rent the acre to someone with their own Palm Harbor or trailer and therefore perhaps more responsibility and integrity when it comes to personal property, whether their own or someone else's...
Idea number two: I rent out the Palm Harbor again, at a greatly reduced rate, to someone creative and groovy who will fix it up as they're living there. Really, it's just the bathroom floor in the small bathroom that's been trashed. There's a bigger ensuite bathroom in the master bedroom. Everything else is functional if not aesthetically pleasing. I'm looking for a long term renter with great taste in music and an artistic, anarchistic, sustainable living-ish bent who wants to live in the country under starry skies. That's not too much to ask for, huh?
Your feedback and ideas are welcome. If you're interested in either buying or renting, please email me at the letter m at the name of this website.
Life Lesson Number Two: DIY. No matter what.
Postscript: the deadbeat renters left a porch swing and tons of building materials behind.
Life Lesson Number Two and a Half: Always look on the bright side of life. Do doo. Do doo, do doo, do dooo...
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