My next door neighbors, the ones living in the other half the duplex from me, have been going through very rough times this past year. The mother broke her hip and had to stop doing her daycare business. Worse, the father, who has diabetes, found out he had a rare form of leukemia that his doctor had been ignoring signs of since he mysteriously came down with flu-like symptoms weeks before. When it was finally caught, he was told he had to start chemo immediately, or be dead within two months. He did, and fortunately he is recovering really well. But he still can’t go back to work for a few more weeks. In the meantime, this family has five kids, at least three (I think four) of which are still living at home.
The upshot of all this drama is that they decided to sell their half of the property. As the owner of the other half, the condo agreement states that I have First Right of Refusal. I did not have the funds to make an offer, and was planning on passing it up, but my dad said, “Don’t be so sure.” We arranged to look at their half, saw that it was pretty beat up, but not too much worse than my half had been. So my dad agreed to their price and we bought it. So now I own the entire building. It’s kind of surreal. The ongoing project is to fix it up and rent it out.
There have already been a few wacky misadventures.
I have discovered the base cunning my neighbors possess on several occasions:
- They put all their trash on the curb, not in bags. It took Anna and me over an hour to bag it up so that the garbage collectors would take it. The number and quantity of unknown fluids coating my arms afterwards was truly appalling.
- The number and quantity of large pieces of garbage beneath the front stair was equally appalling. There were a few dolls, some rotten fruit, and a heavy bucket of what must have been paint once, but is now full of slime. Fun!
- Shortly before selling, they painted over the mold and water damage on their basement walls, to hide it. The drywall is shot and will have to be replaced.
- Some of the water damage came from outside, through the basement windows, because they did not have the water from the eaves draining properly (i.e., they did not even have one of those black plastic things attached to the downspout for a long time).
- But most of the damage, and probably the main reason the mold flourished, came from the leaky water heater. Fortunately, we bought the home insurance that allowed us to have the water heater replaced for only the $100 deductible. We also had the utility guy put in a water softener, since there wasn’t one (WTF?).
- After closing, they left their dog alone in the house for three days.
- While someone occasionally (maybe once per day?) came over to feed him, he still pooped on the rug upstairs.
- More disturbingly, one of the sons came over to take care of him, let him out of the house, then left. I came home from work that day to find that my neighbor from the next house over and several neighborhood kids were wondering what the hell was up with this dog. My neighbor put him back inside the house, and I apologized, saying I had no idea that when they had asked for a couple of days to finish clearing out their things, that by “things” they meant “dog” and “birds” and “fish.”
- But the dog story doesn’t end there—oh, no! I tried calling the mother to demand the dog be taken away that night, but couldn’t get ahold of her. Meanwhile, one of the sons showed up around 8:30, and let the dog out again. I went outside to tell him that the dog needed to be gone, and he assured me that that goal was indeed his noble purpose.
- I sat on my steps, reading my mail, for about 15 minutes while he and his friend chased the dog around ineffectually—for you see, the dog had no collar and no leash, and was extremely happy to be let out of that house after being locked in for three days. So catching him was difficult.
- The son went into the house, and came back out with what I thought was a leash (it was dark and hard to see). His friend came up to me to tell me about how he worked for a construction company, and how he could get me a good deal on fixing up the place. I am now suspicious that he was running interference, because the son then proceeded to prep the car for departure. They left, presumably with the dog, I thought.
- How wrong I was! Fifteen minutes after going back inside, my neighbor knocked on my door, saying the dog was loose again! They had left, without the dog, leaving him outside! Again! I am still trying to figure out what could possibly have been going through the son’s head. What a moron.
- Anyway, my neighbor and I lured the dog back inside the house again. A while later (10:15), I finally got ahold of the mother on the phone (third attempt). She apologized, and said she would make sure the dog was taken away by the father the following afternoon, if not before. In the meantime, I said that I would take care of the dog the next morning if he was still there.
- The next morning, I got up, looked for a way to leash the dog, and didn’t have one. So I let him out free, hoping he wouldn’t run off (he hadn’t the last two times). He immediately ran off. Fortunately, he came back after sniffing around behind a fence.
- But getting him back inside was another story. I ran into my house, grabbed a knife and a roll of summer sausage, and proceeded to lure him back bread-crumbs style until we reached the back patio door. He was very reluctant to come back in, sensing a trap, but eventually I coaxed him inside. I like to think that effort resulted in one less time he peed somewhere inside.
- Thankfully, the father did take away the dog, and the birds, and the fish, that afternoon. Finally! I’m glad I didn’t have to call animal control.
- Their garage is one of the foulest smelling things I have ever encountered. It is certainly unique smelling. If I ever smelled that smell anywhere else, I would instantly think “smells like my neighbors’ garage.” I think it’s because they kept the dog locked in there for several months, before switching to the chain in the back.
- Speaking of which, the backyard within reach of the dog is all torn up, of course. He dug a large hole beneath the backyard basement window. He also chewed up my cable TV wire a few months ago before I asked them (three times) to make sure the dog can’t reach my side of the yard.
- The backyard also had all these plastic structures, from when the mother ran daycare, for kids to climb around on. The father put them out on the curb this past weekend, and they were gone within half an hour. There were also many things pillaged from the massive amount of other trash left out on the curb for nearly a week—apparently one of this neighborhood’s fine traditions.
It may be that your sole purpose in life is simply to serve as a warning to others.