I get it that this house is falling apart.
I understand that the wood siding outside is barely hanging on.
I know the ancient ductwork above has more holes in it than I’d ever care to count.
I am well aware of the substandard plumbing even I can spot beneath the house.
And on
and on
and on
and on…
I also know that I am barely making it on the bills
and am not setting enough aside each month for the insurance and taxes that loom ahead.
So getting things fixed in a timely and prudent manner, well that just isn’t within the realm of my financial reality.
Consequently, whenever my phone shows an incoming text from my tenant I panic.
Dear lord, what now?
Tonight was something special.
As soon as I got the text I hurried over.
I spent half an hour standing on a step stool helping Lindy empty out her cabinets.
I apologized with almost every cup and bowl I handed down to her.
It wasn’t my fault, of course, that the upper kitchen cabinets seem to have been poorly installed and are threatening to fall off the kitchen walls. Not my fault at all, but it is my house and my tenant is paying me for her half of my house with the kitchen cabinets in the traditional firmly attached to the walls position. She’s not terribly demanding, but she does seem to want not to have to worry that her child might get crushed by a violent demonstration of gravity versus badly mounted cabinets. It does seem to be one of those things that ought go without saying and as her landlord I really do feel it my duty to accommodate her.
So I apologized profusely and promised a fix as soon as I can get someone in.
In a way, now that I think on it, it might have been my fault after all.
I have often said that anything that can go wrong with this house will.
I need to keep my stupid mouth shut.
The giggling gods are taking my statement as a challenge.
Loading comments...