Closed Door

Thursday, July 24, 2014

Part 14


Dear Diary, 

I am sitting here, in another motel room, this one off I75, eating cold fried chicken instead of the picadillo I had intended on making.  I tried to stay in the house but there are roaches and spiders and palmetto bugs absolutely everywhere.  I got to the grocery store right before it closed and bought just about every bug bomb and fogger they had left on the shelf.  I can afford to do that … at least this time. 

I’ll give them overnight to work.  Tomorrow morning I’m going to the dollar store and buy a ton of cleaning supplies and I’ll be disinfecting everything, starting with the kitchen.  Disgusting!  My mother and grandmother would be horrified to see how bad off the house has gotten.  That court appointed property management company has royally ripped me off.  They kept it rented to pay their fees, the taxes, etc. but apparently they did little real managing except accepting rent checks.  At least I have proof the taxes were paid and I don’t have to worry about that … but that’s about the only thing I don’t have to worry about. 

I had called ahead and told them not to renew the latest renter’s lease and asked them if everything was OK.  They told me yes.  Lesson learned; never take anyone’s word when they say everything is “just hunkey dorey.”  Does anyone really even say that anymore? 

What a mess.  So much for my fantasy.  I guess it’s true, you never really can go home … at least not without a whole lotta effort.

No comments:

Post a Comment