Sometimes when I blog, I am a bit too say-it-like-it-is. There have been a few times that I post something, and John kindly reminds me that it may be a bit too "Heidi". There have been posts that I have gone back and "tweeked" a little so that it doesn't sound so harsh. Having said that, the names in this post will be changed to protect....me. Ha ha!! :)
When I was a young girl my parents bought several apartment buildings to help pay for college, missions, etc. They owned the apartments for SEVERAL years. A couple of years ago, just before their mission, they sold the apartments. Even though they sold the apartments, they were still carrying the loan. Just recently the owner of the apartments...I will call him, "Mr. No-Pay Pee-pee Pants", OKAY JOHN...I will call him, "Mr. No-Pay", basically stopped paying on the loan.
So, my lucky parents are now the proud owners of some old apartments with some scare-ball tenants. This is not exactly the time in life when they need or want this. My dad is still going through REGULAR chemotherapy sessions. I'm sure that my parents would love to "wash their hands" of the apartments before my dad starts to feel more sick. Needless to say, the apartments are for sale and my parents are breaking their backs to get them fixed up to sell. Anyone interested? :) My parents have gone into the apartments to work at 4:00 in the morning because they are both awake and can't sleep. Okay, blah, blah, blah on to my point....
This morning I get a call from my dad. He and my mom are out of town. He tells me that one of the renters, who just so happens to have a mental problem, was taken to the hospital. Dad also tells me that the renter has a chihuahua locked in the apartment. He asks me if I can go to his house, get the apartments keys, unlock the dog, and take it to a kennel until the renter is let out of the hospital. Are you flippen kidding me? I am supposed to unlock the apartment of a mental person and get his creepy little dog and take it in the car with me to the kennel? Okay, yes, it is Friday the 13th. But, as luck would have it, John was off work for the morning and agreed to help me.
We drove to the apartment and unlocked the apartment door. The door opened part way, but then we realized that the chain was on the door. I'm thinking...Holy crap, we are going to be killed right here and now. How in the heck can the chain be on the door and no one be home? We yelled in the door and no one answered. I called my dad and he suggested that we go get something to break the chain with. Once again....ARE YOU FLIPPEN KIDDING ME? I'm like...let me get this straight...you want me to enter an apartment of a mental dude to get his dog? He may be in there. How is the door chained? Am I going to go in there and see that he has committed suicide? Am I going to go in there and get shot? I told my parents NO WAY and left. I also told them that the only way that I would go back and try again is if I had a police officer with me.
I got home and had only been there about 5 minutes when my dad called again. Oh, and did I mention that my dad is the type of person that wants daily tasks done YESTERDAY. It is a disease that I inherited too. CRAP. Anyway, my dad told me that he called the police and a locksmith and that they were going to meet me there in 20 minutes. So, off we go again.
We got to the apartment and talked to the locksmith and police. The police officer said he needed to investigate a little before we just go barging into the apartment. It was probably because, seeing me dressed like I was and having had NO shower, he thought that I was a renter there. After several questions to us and talking to my dad, the police officer gave the locksmith the green light, and the locksmith removed the chain on the apartment door. I was a little nervous. Thankfully, there was NO person inside the apartment, just a crazy yappy little dog. The dog was scared and out of control. The police officer ended up calling animal control, so we could get the dog into a dog carrier.
This is the part that I should probably leave out, but just have to say it anyway...While I was sitting there waiting through all this fiasco, the old owner, "Mr. No-Pay" came to tied up some loose ends with an old tenant. He was driving a very nice newer pickup. I'm saying to myself..."What the crap, maybe you should just sell that nice rig and poney up the money you owe". Okay there I said it. I didn't share his name. It's all good right?
The end of the story goes like this...we take the dog to the kennel. I go home after a 3 1/2 hour looney ride and smile because I don't own apartments.