One year ago today: June 26, 2015, just tinkerin’ around.
Five years ago today: June 26, 2011, unique digital display.
Nine years ago today: June 26, 2007, anorexic felon patrol.
Random years ago today: June 26, 2013, a new category of dunce.
MORNING
This is your only preview of the underside of the cottage. You can see for yourself why I decided not to jack up the entire house. The boards are arrow-straight and there is no significant termite damage. Those are the original 1946(?) joists and they are as solid as you are going to find. The leaves under the building will be raked out and I’ll likely put an apron to prevent further debris getting wind-swept under there. You can’t see it, but the floorboards appear to be nailed directly to the joists. If they are solid oak, I may salvage them. Can they be turned upside down?
I have not yet examined the floor beneath the bathroom, but even if it needs full replacement, it will not be as expensive as my worst-case scenario of having to put a full new foundation under the building.
You want to know how serious I am about renovating the new cottage? Last night I went to Starbucks with a ruler, pencil, and eraser. You can’t get much more grave than that. (I mean me at Starbucks?) There is a lot of future to consider if one assumes you have ten years left. This is the circular logic of my generation, where that extra “rentable” room in the house was your assurance against poverty and hunger. My sketchwork calculations show that concept may be valid despite having been in and out of favor many times in my leife.. Let’s read.
The chap that made the purchase offer on this place spelled it out. He works at the supermarket and cannot possibly afford to rent. He says right now he is paying nearly $900 (an exaggeration?) to crash on a sofa. I pulled up rooms to let in south Broward it isn’t pretty. At the same time, nobody here should be surprised I have the most economical place in town as far as a crash pad. I was in a parallel situation five years ago, but it’s not like I got there by making major mistakes. Never forget that distinction when reading this blog—I’m in a trailer court so I could save to buy a house, NOT because I royally fucked up through my whole life like some people I won’t name. Thank me later, Ken.
Rooms seem to average $160 per week on the usual media (newspaper, Craigslist). Anything cheaper is asking for trouble or some queer looking for benefits. It all works out to more than $600 per month just for a room. Here, you get a private bedoom, kitchen, bath, dining area, and the full length Florida room. Plus a shed and small back yard. No roomie to steal your Oreos and watch TV till dawn on workdays because he has insomnia. Why, I should double my asking price over that situation alone.
Instead, I’m over to the Senor for eggs and ham with all the fat people in town. I got ahead on my packing, so you could accurately guess if somebody waved me some money, I’d grab it and head north. This place is only a treat because I made it so. There are plenty of units surrounding mine that are overpriced and boring as hell. My neighbors here are nice in the sense that they never do anything or go anywhere, and therefore sit at home all day and don’t bother anybody.
BMW headquarters, 1973.
NOON
What’s with the old house? I clicked through the on-line listings to see what is available short-term in the Lakeland area. This just happened to be the cheapest at $27 per night. It lacks the character of my new place and you would be sharing with up to three others. Strangers. I had to price it out since it is similar to what I have. Good shingles, single windows, secure yard. But it lacks my oak and fig trees, beautiful setting back from the road, and mine doesn’t have that “painted over” look.
The government has moved in, requiring guests to “register” by producing ID, a Facebook account, and an on-line profile—more stringent than demanded by hotels. States have begun enforcing obscure laws such as New York’s ban on renting a house for less than 29 days, laws that were ignored for decades and another reason you should be against “census” taking. Still, Airbnb thrives with guests staying and average of 5.5 days as opposed to 3.5 days at a hotel. BNB Shield is a service that checks if property is being rented short-term that reeks of Hotel association funding.
My take on it is predictable. The establishment is really terrified that somebody, somewhere might rent a room anonymously. Can’t have that when you got millions pouring into your coffers from the hotel lobby. I’m naturally against anybody monitoring of what you do inside your own house but I’m also against bailing you out if you or your house gets damaged for it.
Balance that with the situation in most cities where $3,000 per month gets you a flea-infested rat den. Opposing those who would rent out a decent room in their houses because the city or some hotel chain loses revenue is a condemnation of the way those decadent industries operate. Hotels are vastly overpriced and can only sustain that monopolistic position by price-gouging to pay off City Hall. I would love to see the entire hotel/motel industry wiped out as soon as possible. I believe anyone who has traveled has been coerced into paying outrageous fees for hotels and taxis who made sure no alternatives were available.
It’s not all roses for Airbnb, since they do not and cannot police what homeowners advertise. You might want to read some passages from AirbnbHell but do note in most cases, there is a lack of diligence on the renter’s part. Like the couple who claim they thought they were getting a five-star hotel in the middle of a deserted Indian reservation. I was amused by the complaint concerning Borocay Island, since I’ve been there and this was the first I heard the island now had electricity. It did not in 1984.
One facet I’m wary of is the number of “complaints” that came from people who canceled their reservations at the last minute and had trouble getting a refund. There was something just too uniform about how those people pleaded their case. Anyway, I would say that is between them and the renter, not Airbnb—but I could be wrong.
Same with customer complaints about noise and such. Two of the worst holidays I had were in Hawaii when I booked through travel agents. One hotel, the Miramar (I think, don’t quote me) had a week-long bible convention that ruined my stay. Who can have a quiet breakfast when the surrounding tables are clasping hands in a circle trying to out-pray each other? And another, a private and expensive “residential” hotel where the city had dug a hole in the street outside and covered it with a metal plate. Each vehicle that drove over it rattled the hotel windows and echoed down the hallways.
Do I blame the travel agent? Partially, because he should have known. But if he really did not know, then the fault is squarely on the hotel. The hole wasn’t their fault, but not reporting it was. I see a lot of this situation in the Airbnb complaints. People who want five-star rooms at two-star prices always wind up disappointed—but who to point the finger at?
AFTERNOON
The weather slowed me down. All day I packed 11 small boxes and shoehorned another 10 into the cPod. The heat is not merely uncomfortable. I’ve lived in Venezuela. And it drives you right back inside the house. I took the time to balance the bank books. Take my word for it, this housing transaction has really bled my accounts dry. Not the house directly, but the fact that I’ve already poured $2,466 more dollars into the project above the purchase price. Think deposits, taxes, filing fees, materials, and general costs of getting things underway.
So, all Wallace’s money is gone. If he had showed up, I would probably have cut him a deal. Doing the books reminded me of the days I was poor, particularly when you are forced to make bad decisions that somebody with money could possibly understand. One such episode stands out in my mind. I’ll explain the decision and you’ll probably today think I was an idiot. But have you been there?
The numbers are hypothetical. I had $16 in my account and the ATM will only dispense twenties. I’ve got $5 in my pocket, not enough to last the weekend. A rich kid would just deposit the $5 and pull out the twenty and go for pizza. But as a poor kid, I could not risk that $5. If, as we know they do, the bank pulled some kind of stunt and kept my $5, I’d go hungry. That makes for a “dumb” decision. I had to overdraw my account by $1 and accept the $29.50 penalty next payday.
It’s not that I denigrate the poor for exercise, but that I know what has to change for them to cease being poor and they will not do it. They will not risk that metaphorical $5 in the long run. They do not learn by example, because their environment is mostly other poor people making suboptimal choices, and they do not read. Meaning they honestly think their personal circumstances are so complex and unique that nobody could possibly understand. How’s that for an afternoon’s philosophy?
I’m aware this is a first world problem, no cash from the ATM is hardly true poverty. But I’m comparing my contemporaries, not some foreign system with no history of social mobility. My focus was the logic behind the bad decision. And how the wrong mental attitude in any environment can lead the slow learner down a completely self-destructive path. After a certain point, they are beyond help.
Diego Golombek: Aviation, 2005. Diego was junior member of the team who discovered Viagara cured jetlag in hamsters. Diego was studying animal husbandry, but he got caught.
NIGHT
It did not begin to cool off until sundown. By then, I’m not in the go-getter category. I zipped over to the club to work the crossword and watch the goings-on. It was pretty sad this evening. That queer with the practiced laugh that sounds like a car alarm was in. Twerps like that can often set an entire room off on the wrong direction and that lady-boy was trying. You know, shouting at the top of his voice how everything in the room relates to his preferences.
You know, one thing has always struck me about the way these weirdos act. I cannot accept that they do not know they are weirdos because the majority of the time they don’t go into their act until they see what you do first. Or they cause some predictable scenario, then launch into their fits, tantrums, and episodes. You know what I’m talking about because I was raised around people who did this.
Here’s a nice picture of The Beatles later the same day.
ADDENDUM
Blog rules, I must report. Last evening, I stopped for a brewski. Another of the weird ladies who ignored me when I first hung out there again came and sat beside me. This has no effect on me, I’m usually reading or writing unless there is some single gal present. That’s single-never-married, kind of a stringent requirement, but it only applies to women who didn’t spot me in a wink. Every pickup artist in the place hit on her and I got to hear the running commentary.
We are not talking teenagers, fellas. These are over-50 men hitting on an over-50 woman. It was like listening to my brothers at a bush party. “Just come over to my place to relax. If you want food, we’ll order some food.” I admit, I had an extra couple of Millers just to eavesdrop on this bull. I had no idea it still worked, yet it must. I mean, guys, you think some old lady is going to “relax” at your place when there is so little to do you don’t even have food on hand?
You know what I did? I was technically mean, but not socially. Don’t forget, this is a woman who spurned me on day one, the only day that makes much difference to me. I’ve met enough sharp women to know I’m not much into the ones that need time and information to clue in. So when she bumped into me for the nth time, I said excuse me. I’m on my way home to make turkey stew with dumplings, put on a pot tea, and spend the evening listening to country radio. I’d like to stick around, ma’am, but there is nothing in this bar for me. Nothing that hasn’t already said “no” to me one too many times already, that is.
As for the question of how a gal is supposed to know a real man when she sees one, I dunno. You can’t teach her everything. But the gal who will see morning light streaming through my double windows up country will not be one of the specimens who snubbed me the first day. I can get more of those women than a passenger train can haul.
Last Laugh
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