18.07.2006, 1:10 am
I've been to Charlottesville every day for the past five days moving our stuff. Lots of stuff. Two hour daily commutes and sweaty work for 5+ hours in 90+ degree weather tend to wear on a person. We have moved every item from our registry AND some, plus all of the furniture, AND installed a fence. It feels so good. I've never blistered myself and been so happy about it in my life. Jim and I have been squabbling a bit fairly frequently under the stress of the move in addition to his job situation and money concerns. Normal stuff. We are fairly good at communicating openly, as well as squashing stupid grudges, so our squabbles begin and end within short periods of time. It just adds some unwanted drama to the stress. I can't wait until we actually move in, Jim starts his new job, and classes put some regularity and purpose back into my life.
We are renting from a guy whose financial dealings are controlled primarily by the owner of a certain rental agency. So we communicate with her, send checks to her, only see her. He lives a few states away. The problem is that he's 97 years old, and there is a stipulation in the contract (which we have with her, not him) which states that in the event of his demise, we have 90 days to vacate the premises. Now...he's 97. What are the odds that he will live to 100 and allow us to live in this home consistently until I leave grad school in 2009? We signed a two year lease, and would certainly extend it if given the opportunity. But what are our chances of maintaining the property? Not very good. We suspect that she will acquire the property when he dies, and hope that she would simply continue to rent it to us out of respect for the contractual agreement and human compassion (taking away the home of a married couple, one of them a student, with two dogs, two parrots, and a reptile in the middle of the school year in Charlottesville would be murder) but we have our doubts. She outright told us that she was planning on buying it when he dies, totally redoing the entire place and selling it for a crazy profit. Just before we moved in she did some construction on it. We said we didn't want it, we said we'd pay the increased rent without it, she insisted...saying it's what the owner would want. He's 97 fucking years old living 5 states away. He will never see it again. Are you trying to tell me he really cares whether or not you redo the countertops and cabinets and add central air? Of course not. You're executor, and you know that if you do this work while he's alive then HE will have to pay for it. That way when he dies, you had all that construction done for free and you already have a headstart on totally redoing the entire thing. This belief of ours comes as a result of many other things she's done so far. (keeping in mind this is the bitch I almost wanted to blow off because she was such a fucking cunt during our first phone call)
The point is that we have a very limited amount of time left in this house. He will die while I'm still at UVA, she will evict us and we will have to settle for something not nearly as nice for more money, after sinking our own money into adding window dressings, landscaping, and fencing. It sucks, but at least we have today. At least we can prepare various plans according to letters of the alphabet.
Goddamn. I wanted to write a really long entry but I just realized it's 2 a.m. and I have to drive Jim to work in three hours. (his tire blew out last night on the way home, and then his donut got a flat...yes.)
