Renting, the parent of this diary, describes what happened when I experienced the perfect plumbing storm in the house I rent(ed) for some seventeen years. It was both home and workspace, but has been neither for six or seven weeks. No home, no work, no income...
During that time, I was late with my rent exactly once, by three days, and called ahead to let the landlord know. I had been an ideal tenant...maintained the house and grounds for the cost of materials only, good neighbor, the works.
On October 6th of this year, the house flooded with water...both clear water and waste water, and when I notified the landlord, I was told nothing would be done for a week, and in fact, nothing was done by the landlord for a week. I tried to mitigate the problem myself, but moved out when I began to get sick from exposure to the waste water. I did my best to take the high road, and tried to work with the landlord to get the situation put right. I did not go to the county authorities to complain and/or report the off-permit structures involved. I lost about half of my possessions to water damage.
It has been a month and a half, approximately, since I have been "home," and I found out today that I won't be going back. By email.
I had been checking the contractor's progress fairly regularly, as I had been going back to my rented home to get tools and such that were stored in a garage there while the plumbing problems, leaky clear, gray and black water lines from the house immediately up the hill from mine (sewage and gray water) and clear water from my house, were being seen to and my home rehabbed. At some point, I decided this was counter-productive...I have built houses, and know the difference between good and shoddy work, and was not happy with what Gary was doing. I felt I would be more comfortable and he would be happier and work faster if I didn't bother him.
What I should have known was that Chuck, the landlord, was cutting corners everywhere he could to save a few dollars, and Gary, the contractor, was cutting corners everywhere he could to make a few dollars. They were trying to skin each other and I was in the middle.
Chuck and JoAnn, the property owners, began pressing me to move in early, before the work was even nearly done, but I refused, knowing by that time the work would stop at that point. So move-in was set back to November 25th, Thanksgiving Day. Tomorrow. I stopped by the place early this morning and noted that Gary had folded his tent and thought he might be moving his "shop" up to the garage where it would be out of the way, and noted that there were still open excavations, and water-ruined linoleum remnants still stuck to the laundry room floor,mixed with joint compound. The tile on the kitchen and living room floors had been grouted, but not wiped or swept, and an electrical outlet was newly broken. I took pictures.
Before I left, I called Chuck and JoAnn, and left a message for them...the state of the house and property, and asked for a walk-through with one or both of them before move-in. When I got home, I sent them an email, repeating the phone message, for documentation. Shortly, I received an email reply..."it has been over thirty days since this started, and we have not finished fixing it. Your rental agreement, therefor, has expired. Remove your belongings from our property as soon as possible."
So, I'm still renting a room from a friend, but that is not going to last too much longer. I replied, stating that I expected a refund of my last months' rent, as I had not been living there while the place was not habitable, and further that I would still like to discuss compensation for my property losses due to water damage. I had zero rental insurance, and when I inquired with AAA, was told they would be under no obligation to pay for any damage incurred in an illegal structure anyway. I am guessing Chuck and JoAnn's insurer, if they have one, shares that view.
I have had no reply to that, nor do I expect one. and have not moved anything today, nor will I move anything tomorrow. Friday, I have an appointment with an attorney, who will initially send one of those sternly worded letters on her letterhead.
And that taking the high road thing? If I am forced to go to the county office of Fair Housing and Equal Opportunity, if there is still such an office in Ventura County, I will be sorely tempted to stop in at Public Health, County Sanitation and Code Enforcement. I suppose I could mention that to Chuck and JoAnn, as sort of a bargaining chit, but after this I don't think I want to rent from them anymore, anyway.
The result is that I feel betrayed. Played. I know that as soon as I am out, Gary will be back to finish, and the place will be offered at a more substantial rent increase than would have been legal to spring on a current tenant. In fact, it looks like that has been the intent pretty much from the git.
Fortunately, or stupidly, I don't know which, I still believe in taking the high road, that if I just do the right thing for the right reason I'll be OK. I should have seen this coming when I noticed that Chuck was still flying his Bush/Cheney bumpersticker. A month ago.
I will be enjoying Thanksgiving dinner at the Mountain Vista long-term care home tomorrow, with my friend, Geoffrey. His family, brother and sister-in-law, are about done with him, though they pay for the insurance that keeps him housed there. I have known Geoffrey, some five years my junior, for about fifteen years. He looks older than me. Much. I pick him up to take him to meetings. AA meetings. Geoffrey is an alcoholic, and has the mind of a slow ten-year-old now. Wet brain, one drink too many. He's still my friend, and I'm still his friend, and he needs to get out of that warehouse for the permanently infirm once in a while. And the people in AA here need to know what happens to alcoholics who keep on drinking when nothing else happens. So I'm in free-fall for a while...damn, I hate that. Happy Thanksgiving, everybody.