I don’t think I’ve mentioned yet that I have a new tenant for January. I am so pleased and relieved.
Way back in November, my former tenant, who started her brief stint as the resident of my basement apartment by showing up three hours late to get her keys because she was (her words) “into the wine and lost track of time,” stopped paying rent; I had no choice but to evict her. I should clarify that this young lady was three hours late for that eleven a.m. appointment because she was drunk on cheap wine. Not exactly an auspicious start, right? In my defense, her initial and follow up interviews were great; the wheels just fell off the situation immediately after we signed a lease.
Imagine renting to this person. It was a disaster from the first week due to the constantly drunk/stoned/stupid friends she invited over and often gave her spare key to, and allowed to do laundry, smoke cigarettes and attend church services in the middle of the night. We’re not sure what denomination she was, but she was certainly devout: we could count on hearing her shout, “Oh my God!” repeatedly in the middle of the night loud enough to start the yellow lab next door barking. The dog is old and partly deaf.
My new tenant arrives next week from a distant land of sand, palm trees, and strange orange creatures wearing fake hair, fake nails, and fake breasts. I’ve forewarned him that Alberta winters can be rough, but I anticipate the poor kid will be longing to return to California by the end of the first fortnight. I haven’t met this young man yet, but he is coming here on an athletic scholarship and seems serious about his studies. His cheque also cleared immediately, which counts high on my points chart.
After two months with no rent cheques, my bank account will finally have a little breathing room, thankfully. These last few weeks have been tense, and I’ve been typing awkwardly with my fingers crossed that nothing would break, run out, or get sick enough to need a vet. It’s a sad thing when the human dashes after a loose quarter faster than the cat after it falls from her coat pocket.
Heck, I might even buy name brand toilet paper this month, since I’ll be able to afford a bit of a splurge. I’m grateful from the top of my toes to the bottom of my…well…bottom.
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