The house in Philly
Mar. 1st, 2018 08:59 amI made a placeholder post a while back with a list of things to talk about here, and I have some time/energy to start tackling those, now that work has eased up a bit.
The things were:
The house in Philly
The kids
My dad
Work
James's books
I also started a Patreon, so I'll probably want to talk about that, soon, too, but for now, I'm just really grooving on how much writing I am getting done for my non-existent (yet?) patrons. Almost doesn't even matter if I ever get one, because they're motivating me even in their absence. I have written new stuff every single day since I put it up, and I'm amused/surprised at how much motivation just having a self-imposed daily deadline has been. The new novel is even finally getting written, instead of just thought about.
Anyway, the house in Philly.
Some of you know that my mother's lifelong best friend, and the person she named me after, was her sister, my Aunt Sandy. Around four or five years ago, Aunt Sandy died. Mom had promised that if that happened, she would look after Uncle Ed, Aunt Sandy's estranged husband who still lived in their house in Philadelphia.
Ed moved out here, and mom started renting the house to a woman my aunt had mentored for a long time. Aunt Sandy helped the woman (let's call her Wanda, because that's her name) get her nursing license (Aunt Sandy worked for a public service agency) and Aunt Sandy thought highly of Wanda, so mom (who has power of attorney for Ed's affairs) set up an informal (first mistake) rent-to-own scheme (second mistake) with Wanda.
About a year ago, though mom did not tell me this, Wanda stopped paying her rent, and wasn't in touch with mom to tell her why, so mom wrote to her and let her know they were going to sell the house. Wanda wrote back and asked for another chance to resume the rent-to-own arrangement, or for mom to hold the mortgage if Wanda were to buy the house, and mom said no thanks, very kindly. So Wanda stopped responding to emails, never paid her back rent, and Trashed. The. House.
Around the time we found this out, my mom shut down about the whole thing, and I don't have any emotion around it except weariness, so I took on dealing with the details of it with the real estate agent mom hired.
By the time the agent was able to gain possession of the house and work out eviction proceedings, the place was a nightmare. Gouges in the wall, a basement full of animal excreta and fleas, and a pervasive cat-piss smell throughout. Not to mention all the furniture gone (she was renting it furnished). Wanda avoided process servers, and didn't show to the eviction hearing, so now we have to figure out how to get her into court.
So mom's out ten grand in rental income, and so far in the past two months, I've maxed out two credit cards paying for junk removal, exterminators, and a cleaning/floor bleaching. The agent has been showing the house, but it's not in great aesthetic shape (though it's sound and nice, and in a nice-ish area). So we can accept one of a couple of investors' low-ball offers, or sink more money into painting, putting up new blinds, maybe staging the place, so they can sell it.
I never wanted to be a homeowner. I'm NOT a homeowner. And this is a house I don't give a shit about, owned by a man I don't give a shit about. But I give a shit about my mom, so I am doing what I can to take care of business. I will be SO glad when it's all over.
The things were:
The house in Philly
The kids
My dad
Work
James's books
I also started a Patreon, so I'll probably want to talk about that, soon, too, but for now, I'm just really grooving on how much writing I am getting done for my non-existent (yet?) patrons. Almost doesn't even matter if I ever get one, because they're motivating me even in their absence. I have written new stuff every single day since I put it up, and I'm amused/surprised at how much motivation just having a self-imposed daily deadline has been. The new novel is even finally getting written, instead of just thought about.
Anyway, the house in Philly.
Some of you know that my mother's lifelong best friend, and the person she named me after, was her sister, my Aunt Sandy. Around four or five years ago, Aunt Sandy died. Mom had promised that if that happened, she would look after Uncle Ed, Aunt Sandy's estranged husband who still lived in their house in Philadelphia.
Ed moved out here, and mom started renting the house to a woman my aunt had mentored for a long time. Aunt Sandy helped the woman (let's call her Wanda, because that's her name) get her nursing license (Aunt Sandy worked for a public service agency) and Aunt Sandy thought highly of Wanda, so mom (who has power of attorney for Ed's affairs) set up an informal (first mistake) rent-to-own scheme (second mistake) with Wanda.
About a year ago, though mom did not tell me this, Wanda stopped paying her rent, and wasn't in touch with mom to tell her why, so mom wrote to her and let her know they were going to sell the house. Wanda wrote back and asked for another chance to resume the rent-to-own arrangement, or for mom to hold the mortgage if Wanda were to buy the house, and mom said no thanks, very kindly. So Wanda stopped responding to emails, never paid her back rent, and Trashed. The. House.
Around the time we found this out, my mom shut down about the whole thing, and I don't have any emotion around it except weariness, so I took on dealing with the details of it with the real estate agent mom hired.
By the time the agent was able to gain possession of the house and work out eviction proceedings, the place was a nightmare. Gouges in the wall, a basement full of animal excreta and fleas, and a pervasive cat-piss smell throughout. Not to mention all the furniture gone (she was renting it furnished). Wanda avoided process servers, and didn't show to the eviction hearing, so now we have to figure out how to get her into court.
So mom's out ten grand in rental income, and so far in the past two months, I've maxed out two credit cards paying for junk removal, exterminators, and a cleaning/floor bleaching. The agent has been showing the house, but it's not in great aesthetic shape (though it's sound and nice, and in a nice-ish area). So we can accept one of a couple of investors' low-ball offers, or sink more money into painting, putting up new blinds, maybe staging the place, so they can sell it.
I never wanted to be a homeowner. I'm NOT a homeowner. And this is a house I don't give a shit about, owned by a man I don't give a shit about. But I give a shit about my mom, so I am doing what I can to take care of business. I will be SO glad when it's all over.
no subject
Date: 2018-03-01 08:41 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2018-03-01 10:03 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2018-03-01 11:27 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2018-03-01 11:35 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2018-03-02 12:33 am (UTC)I don't even know what to say about the house in Philly. But you are honoring your aunt's memory and Wanda really, really was not.
P.
no subject
Date: 2018-03-02 12:21 pm (UTC)If you need Philly contacts, let me know.