I Make My Own Drama

Bad Gramma,

I thought the last day of the month was yesterday.  It's today.  The rent is due the last day of the month, not the first.  I called the renter and left a message that the rent was due.  He is in the apartment, but not answering the door and the blinds are drawn.  I send him a text to leave the rent in his entryway or on the counter in my house.  No response.  I have knocked three different times today.  He's only been here a month.  I take a sleeping pill with my other meds so I'm not obsessing about this all night. 

In the morning I call and he hangs up on me three times.  I text him that the rent is now past due and when is he going to pay it.  He says, maybe next week.  I ask him how soon he can get his stuff out of the apartment.  Storage units are readily available.  He says he is not moving.  I say, you violated the rental agreement with the late rent.  Put your stuff in a storage unit and couch surf.  He says, no.  I say I will start the eviction process.  He says, let me know when the court date is. 

I am online all morning trying to figure out how to proceed.  I call help numbers.  There are forms and forms and tenant rights that make it sound like he can live here forever.  He can bring the late rent to court and then continue to live here and do it again the next month.  Dave tries to call him and he doesn't answer.  Dave texts him and says, answer your phone.  The guy responds, who is this?  I call my brother, who also has rental property. 

We agree that renters are mostly assholes.  He has done some pretty crazy shit to his bad renters.  He says we will load up this guys shit and take it to his work place and drop it off.  Or, we will leave it outside the gates and change the code and the locks on the rental unit.  None of his suggestions are legal and I don't want to be in court.  He says to call him back in a few hours and he will have a plan. 

I search online for the renter's wife.  I come up with a name and the name of the last realty company she worked for.  I call and she is no longer there.  I call my friend in real estate and ask her if she can help.  She gets me this woman's phone number.  I call and tell her what a douche her ex has been.  I ask if he is at all violent.  She says none of this sounds like her husband.  She will call him and find out what's going on. 

The renter calls me back and asks what's going on?  He has received none of my calls or texts.  He tells me today is the last day of the month and he was planning to pay me cash again at the end of the day.  He is all concerned and apologetic.  He wants to know what number I have been calling.  It is not his number.  I apologize profusely.  He is relieved that there is not a problem.  He thinks he shorted me $50.00 last month, so he will add it this month. 

He asks if my friend is still moving in when the lease is up.  No, I have told her she is too picky and it would ruin our friendship.  I tell him the rent will be $50.00 more and to let me know if he is interested.   I text his wife and thank her for helping me out.  She says anytime.   I am glad I didn't tell her about all the women he has over, which wouldn't be true, but I would go out of my way to make his life difficult.  I am relieved, but my stomach is still in knots and I feel sick. 

I was worried about my dogs, that they would be used for retaliation.  I had a renter who took my cat for a ride.  I found out what a miserable life Frank had suffered as a result.  I was afraid my dogs would be poisoned, run over by this guy going too fast in the driveway, or let out of the gates and get hit by a car.  They could be dropped off somewhere and I would never see them again or they would die a cruel death.  I hate the idea of supervised outside time and keeping them inside if I am gone all day.  They love being outside as much as I do.  My dogs are my Xanax.  My dogs are my people.