My Landlord Mary
Mary is a trip. A full-fledged, trip to another planet type of trip. On Mary's planet, everyone is 80 years-old, still swearing they are totally self-sufficient. On one hand it is noble that they put forth such effort to maintain their independence and, in effect, dignity. On the other hand, it';s delusional and causes other people harm, nuisance, whatever. But I love Mary. I think she's as sweet as sweet potatoe pie. However, she's not exactly my ideal landlord.
Leading up to my first visit of the crib I'm renting, something told me that all wasn;t what it seemed. No, someone told me such.
"Hello, I'm Vince and I'm calling about the two-bedroom house for rent. Is it still available?
"Hi Vince, this is Angela. Thanks for calling. Yeah, it's still available. You wanna come check it out."
"Yes, definitely. I'll be in town Wednesday and Thursday looking at some spots. Can I come see it Wednesday afternoon?"
"Sure, that's fine. But, just outta curiosity, what other places are you looking at?"
"Well I'm going to check out this two-bedroom in Weekie Wachie before I come see your place."
"Weekie Wachie, huh? What are they charging like $1,000/mo or something like that?"
"Naw. Actually, it's very reasonable. In the $700 range."
"Really? In Weekie Wachie? Well, definitely go check that out first and then if you still want to come see my place, you have my number, so just give me a call. Okay?"
"Alright. Thanks Angela. I'll see you Wednesday afternoon."
As I hung up the phone I thought to myslef, "Why is this house renting so far below what seems to be the market value?" I couldn't think of anything and, really, didn't feel like bothering to hypothesize. I just figured I'd get there and see.
As I entered the neighborhood I was stunned. The streets were wide, big front lawns emaculately manicured, tons of big, green palm trees, the houses were bright. Growing up on Butler Ave and then moving to the Strict -- these neighborhoods only existed in areas I was years away from affording. I mean, I passed a golf course at the entrance of the neighborhood.
So I drove through these winding streets and ended up in the driveway of what was to be my crib. I pulled out my cell and rang Mary. She was at her sister's house around the corner and seconds later she came rolling up in her Lincoln Town Car (classic old fogey whip). Then the door opens and out pops one leg. Then the next leg slowly appears. Then, once both feet were on the ground, both hands grip both sides of the door and Mary gathers enough energy to rise to her feet. She slammed the door and wabbled her way to me, standing at the entrance.
"Awwww man! Don't tell me this geriatric piece of work is the landlord! Am I gonna have to deal with her everytime I need something fixed? Am I going to have to wait for her to get things done or repeat myself slowly for her to understand me?" Right then and there I could see why the house had taken a while to rented. Most house I called where rented out within days of the advertisement. Mary told me that she'd been trying to rent this one out for over a month now.
As she's inching her way toward me, smiling as wide the lawn, she drops this one on me: "I know, Vince...I know. I'm slow. But this is a marked improvement! This is only my third week without my walker!"
Then I went into a six to seven-sentence remark that I thought to be charming, except it got no response, just this warning: "I couldn't hear what you were trying to say honey. I can't hear outta my right ear. So you're really gonna have to speak up. Okay?"
"NO PROBLEM MARY"
Even still, I had already fallen in love with the neighborhood, so I was definitely not against dealing with Mary to live in this hood from a different world.
But then I get hit with another setback. Mary opens the door and I'm immediately greeted by bright red carpet. RED CARPET! Now, I'm no Martha Stewart and you won't find me serving as some interior design advisor, but I have my furniture and, suffice to say, it ain't dancin with no red carpet.
Still, I'm a Glass-Full kinda nigga, so I quickly fixed my face and looked through the crib. Two bedrooms, two bathrooms. Couldn't get that in DC. A big kitchen with the counter space I've always wanted to get into to some heavy-duty cooking. Bonus. Screened in patio so I can entertain, grill, whatever. Yes! Even had a lil alcove with a fireplace. Unecessary, but could come in handy when I'm whining and dining some tasty treat of a woman in January or Frebruary. The house was the jump off, but this red carpet was really digging in my crack. So I just leveld with grandma Mary.
"Mary, I love the spot. But I gotta tell ya, I don't think I could live anywhere with red carpet. I'd have to buy all new furniture."
"Huh! Come closer dear...and, and speak up!"
"YEAH. I WAS JUST SAYING THAT THE RED CARPET IS A PRETTY SERIOUS DRAWBACK. I'D HAVE TO BUY ALL NEW FURNITURE FOR THE HOUSE TO LOOK PRESENTABLE."
"Oh. Oh, I see. Well what if we went to look at some carpet together and then split the cost? Would that work for you, Dear?"
"Yeah, I guess that could work. Okay, yeah, let's do that at some point."
"Great. You're gonna love living here. The neighbors are so nice. And hey, do you play golf?"
"NO. NOT YET. BUT I HAVE BEEN MEANING TO LEARN. IT'S JUST SO EXPENSIVE."
"Oh, well don't worry about cost. The golf course at the front of the neighborhood is a public course, honey. Yeah, it's public...that means it's free. And you know what? My husband died the other year..."
"OH MARY, I'M SO SORRY TO HEAR THAT. WELL YOU'RE SPIRITS SEEM TO BE IN ORDER. THAT'S GOOD"
"Yeah, well he died the other year and you know what? I can give you his golf clubs so you can start up a new hobby. Huh? How's that? Oh you're just gonna love it here, Vince. I promise."
She was quite the saleswoman, because I believed her -- I was gonna love it here. Hernando County is no Greenwich Village or Adams Morgan or Buckhead in terms of entertainment and energy. It's not Yonkers or Hyattsville or Stone Mountain in terms of a relatively close proximity to city life and ebullience. Hernando is the straight up Burbs...better yet, I'd even call it the sticks. I mean, I'm 40 minutes from Tampa, an hour from St. Pete and an hour from Orlando...that's not exactly being in the thick of things. So, if you're gonna be way out there, why not live in a beautiful neighborhood and a spacious crib. I had found that, at a dumb low renting price. Rents in the $700s won't get you a bed and toilet in DC, so let's not even talk NYC.
Still, I had plenty of reservations. I was praying that Mary just owned the property, but had someone else do the work.
Nope.
"So Vince, you should probably get the water turned on as soon as possible so I can get in here and get everything nice and clean for you." There it was. My worse nightmare: A do-it-herself-geezer. Noble? Yes. Practical? Nope.
"OH? YOU'RE GONNA CLEAN MARY? I'D THINK YOU'D MIGHT HIRE SOMEONE TO DO THAT FOR YOU. YA KNOW?"
"Oh no. Honey, too expensive. Plus, I'm really good at it. Been cleaning my own homes for over 70 years, honey." I knew it! She was a frugal ol' bitty. Oh well, I thought I would wait to see how she did and try to suspend my agism for a couple weeks.
Another thing was getting me too, though. The crib had an 'old smell' to it. A couple weeks later, Pops would tell me, "Nigga please. You trippin Vince. I don't smell no 'old smell' or whatever you're talkin about. It's probably your breath." I don't care though. I smelled it that first day and smelled it when me and Pops moved my stuff in. So, I asked Mary if she could get someone to shampoo the carpets.
"Oh sure, Vince. I have a shampooer at home."
"OH, YOU'RE GONNA DO IT?"
"Sure, Honey. As soon as you get the electricity turned on, I'll get right on it. It'll definitely freshen somethings up. Right?"
"RIGHT."
The following week, Pops and I had to install the garage lock. Apparently Mary and her girlfriend Grace, an 4 foot-nothin, 80-something piece-of-work, had tried to install the lock themselves and F'd everything up because they had the wrong lock. So the day Pops and I are moving in, here comes Mary and Grace with a new lock.
"Here, Honey. See if you and Dad can make this work. Grace and I tried, but we had the wrong dang lock! Ha! Can you believe it?" I was thinking, "Of course I can you old coot. Just like I'm sure you put you're bloomers on backwards too, you old dust-fart."
I could tell that the one year relationship was gonna try my patience. But the fact remained, I was willing to deal with Mary. I liked the crib that much.
Plus, Mary really likes me. I'm rarely Vince, mostly Honey, Dear, Sweetie -- occassionally Son. I don't mind it. In fact, I like it. I must say, she's an endearing woman. And she's accomodating, too.
Just the other day she stopped by to check on some things we needed to take care of. She also inquired how I was getting along. I said I was doing fine.
"That's great. And you know what, I'm gonna show all my friends your stories in the newspaper. Oh, I just love the Times. It's the best dang paper around. Everytime I see your name I'm gonna say, 'Look everyone, that's my guy!'
Oh you're just gonna love it here. And who knows. Maybe you might find a nice young lady to keep you company. Huh, Dear? Yeah, then you won't be so lonely. See ya, Honey."
As always, greased again.
Leading up to my first visit of the crib I'm renting, something told me that all wasn;t what it seemed. No, someone told me such.
"Hello, I'm Vince and I'm calling about the two-bedroom house for rent. Is it still available?
"Hi Vince, this is Angela. Thanks for calling. Yeah, it's still available. You wanna come check it out."
"Yes, definitely. I'll be in town Wednesday and Thursday looking at some spots. Can I come see it Wednesday afternoon?"
"Sure, that's fine. But, just outta curiosity, what other places are you looking at?"
"Well I'm going to check out this two-bedroom in Weekie Wachie before I come see your place."
"Weekie Wachie, huh? What are they charging like $1,000/mo or something like that?"
"Naw. Actually, it's very reasonable. In the $700 range."
"Really? In Weekie Wachie? Well, definitely go check that out first and then if you still want to come see my place, you have my number, so just give me a call. Okay?"
"Alright. Thanks Angela. I'll see you Wednesday afternoon."
As I hung up the phone I thought to myslef, "Why is this house renting so far below what seems to be the market value?" I couldn't think of anything and, really, didn't feel like bothering to hypothesize. I just figured I'd get there and see.
As I entered the neighborhood I was stunned. The streets were wide, big front lawns emaculately manicured, tons of big, green palm trees, the houses were bright. Growing up on Butler Ave and then moving to the Strict -- these neighborhoods only existed in areas I was years away from affording. I mean, I passed a golf course at the entrance of the neighborhood.
So I drove through these winding streets and ended up in the driveway of what was to be my crib. I pulled out my cell and rang Mary. She was at her sister's house around the corner and seconds later she came rolling up in her Lincoln Town Car (classic old fogey whip). Then the door opens and out pops one leg. Then the next leg slowly appears. Then, once both feet were on the ground, both hands grip both sides of the door and Mary gathers enough energy to rise to her feet. She slammed the door and wabbled her way to me, standing at the entrance.
"Awwww man! Don't tell me this geriatric piece of work is the landlord! Am I gonna have to deal with her everytime I need something fixed? Am I going to have to wait for her to get things done or repeat myself slowly for her to understand me?" Right then and there I could see why the house had taken a while to rented. Most house I called where rented out within days of the advertisement. Mary told me that she'd been trying to rent this one out for over a month now.
As she's inching her way toward me, smiling as wide the lawn, she drops this one on me: "I know, Vince...I know. I'm slow. But this is a marked improvement! This is only my third week without my walker!"
Then I went into a six to seven-sentence remark that I thought to be charming, except it got no response, just this warning: "I couldn't hear what you were trying to say honey. I can't hear outta my right ear. So you're really gonna have to speak up. Okay?"
"NO PROBLEM MARY"
Even still, I had already fallen in love with the neighborhood, so I was definitely not against dealing with Mary to live in this hood from a different world.
But then I get hit with another setback. Mary opens the door and I'm immediately greeted by bright red carpet. RED CARPET! Now, I'm no Martha Stewart and you won't find me serving as some interior design advisor, but I have my furniture and, suffice to say, it ain't dancin with no red carpet.
Still, I'm a Glass-Full kinda nigga, so I quickly fixed my face and looked through the crib. Two bedrooms, two bathrooms. Couldn't get that in DC. A big kitchen with the counter space I've always wanted to get into to some heavy-duty cooking. Bonus. Screened in patio so I can entertain, grill, whatever. Yes! Even had a lil alcove with a fireplace. Unecessary, but could come in handy when I'm whining and dining some tasty treat of a woman in January or Frebruary. The house was the jump off, but this red carpet was really digging in my crack. So I just leveld with grandma Mary.
"Mary, I love the spot. But I gotta tell ya, I don't think I could live anywhere with red carpet. I'd have to buy all new furniture."
"Huh! Come closer dear...and, and speak up!"
"YEAH. I WAS JUST SAYING THAT THE RED CARPET IS A PRETTY SERIOUS DRAWBACK. I'D HAVE TO BUY ALL NEW FURNITURE FOR THE HOUSE TO LOOK PRESENTABLE."
"Oh. Oh, I see. Well what if we went to look at some carpet together and then split the cost? Would that work for you, Dear?"
"Yeah, I guess that could work. Okay, yeah, let's do that at some point."
"Great. You're gonna love living here. The neighbors are so nice. And hey, do you play golf?"
"NO. NOT YET. BUT I HAVE BEEN MEANING TO LEARN. IT'S JUST SO EXPENSIVE."
"Oh, well don't worry about cost. The golf course at the front of the neighborhood is a public course, honey. Yeah, it's public...that means it's free. And you know what? My husband died the other year..."
"OH MARY, I'M SO SORRY TO HEAR THAT. WELL YOU'RE SPIRITS SEEM TO BE IN ORDER. THAT'S GOOD"
"Yeah, well he died the other year and you know what? I can give you his golf clubs so you can start up a new hobby. Huh? How's that? Oh you're just gonna love it here, Vince. I promise."
She was quite the saleswoman, because I believed her -- I was gonna love it here. Hernando County is no Greenwich Village or Adams Morgan or Buckhead in terms of entertainment and energy. It's not Yonkers or Hyattsville or Stone Mountain in terms of a relatively close proximity to city life and ebullience. Hernando is the straight up Burbs...better yet, I'd even call it the sticks. I mean, I'm 40 minutes from Tampa, an hour from St. Pete and an hour from Orlando...that's not exactly being in the thick of things. So, if you're gonna be way out there, why not live in a beautiful neighborhood and a spacious crib. I had found that, at a dumb low renting price. Rents in the $700s won't get you a bed and toilet in DC, so let's not even talk NYC.
Still, I had plenty of reservations. I was praying that Mary just owned the property, but had someone else do the work.
Nope.
"So Vince, you should probably get the water turned on as soon as possible so I can get in here and get everything nice and clean for you." There it was. My worse nightmare: A do-it-herself-geezer. Noble? Yes. Practical? Nope.
"OH? YOU'RE GONNA CLEAN MARY? I'D THINK YOU'D MIGHT HIRE SOMEONE TO DO THAT FOR YOU. YA KNOW?"
"Oh no. Honey, too expensive. Plus, I'm really good at it. Been cleaning my own homes for over 70 years, honey." I knew it! She was a frugal ol' bitty. Oh well, I thought I would wait to see how she did and try to suspend my agism for a couple weeks.
Another thing was getting me too, though. The crib had an 'old smell' to it. A couple weeks later, Pops would tell me, "Nigga please. You trippin Vince. I don't smell no 'old smell' or whatever you're talkin about. It's probably your breath." I don't care though. I smelled it that first day and smelled it when me and Pops moved my stuff in. So, I asked Mary if she could get someone to shampoo the carpets.
"Oh sure, Vince. I have a shampooer at home."
"OH, YOU'RE GONNA DO IT?"
"Sure, Honey. As soon as you get the electricity turned on, I'll get right on it. It'll definitely freshen somethings up. Right?"
"RIGHT."
The following week, Pops and I had to install the garage lock. Apparently Mary and her girlfriend Grace, an 4 foot-nothin, 80-something piece-of-work, had tried to install the lock themselves and F'd everything up because they had the wrong lock. So the day Pops and I are moving in, here comes Mary and Grace with a new lock.
"Here, Honey. See if you and Dad can make this work. Grace and I tried, but we had the wrong dang lock! Ha! Can you believe it?" I was thinking, "Of course I can you old coot. Just like I'm sure you put you're bloomers on backwards too, you old dust-fart."
I could tell that the one year relationship was gonna try my patience. But the fact remained, I was willing to deal with Mary. I liked the crib that much.
Plus, Mary really likes me. I'm rarely Vince, mostly Honey, Dear, Sweetie -- occassionally Son. I don't mind it. In fact, I like it. I must say, she's an endearing woman. And she's accomodating, too.
Just the other day she stopped by to check on some things we needed to take care of. She also inquired how I was getting along. I said I was doing fine.
"That's great. And you know what, I'm gonna show all my friends your stories in the newspaper. Oh, I just love the Times. It's the best dang paper around. Everytime I see your name I'm gonna say, 'Look everyone, that's my guy!'
Oh you're just gonna love it here. And who knows. Maybe you might find a nice young lady to keep you company. Huh, Dear? Yeah, then you won't be so lonely. See ya, Honey."
As always, greased again.
posted by Twistinado @ 3:47 PM
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