Slumlords and Refunds: Let the Games Begin

May 2, 2013 

It's been almost 14 days since confronting the landlady about the mold and insect problems. Although she said it would take a few days to refund my money since she needed to wait for my checks to clear the bank, I have received nothing. According to my online banking account, my checks cleared the same day as our conversation. For almost two weeks I've been stressing. Anger stress. Stress is very motivating. I've spent all that energy researching landlord-tenant laws, emailing attorneys, and calling legal self-help lines.

Attorneys are worse than landlords. If you've read some of my older blogs, you know I have a little experience with them. In between calls and emails I chanted to myself, "The only people to benefit in a lawsuit are the lawyers." It's all about money to them and any way they can suck it out of you. Several people I spoke to said many attorneys give free consultations. Yeah, right. I emailed one and asked if he gave free consultations or what his rates were. He suggested I contact a low-income organization for free advice. He didn't even entertain the possibility I could be his client. Maybe he thought if I even bothered to ask for a free consultation I couldn't afford him?  Another said he only represents landlords. Again, assuming I'm a renter and not an owner of property I can't possibly have enough money to afford him. Sounds like economic discrimination to me. Another attorney agreed to a phone conversation but wouldn't answer any of my questions unless I threw money at him. Most didn't even answer my emails! The problem is I am not trained in law nor do I know tricks to research statutes, codes, and regulations so I need advice in order to proceed effectively. One small slip could throw it all in the toilet. I did find attorney in my little town who was informative and kind, but he told me I needed an attorney in the county where the rental is located. Damn. Why is justice so difficult?


Although moldy landlady said a few days, she's a liar. I already knew this. Still, I gave her the benefit of the doubt and waited in hopes she'd do the right thing and send my money back to me. I also know fourteen days is always the magical deadline with rental agreements of any kind and she would need to do something within this time frame or she would be required to refund my deposit no matter what. Sure enough, I received a letter from her on day twelve. She refunded one month's rent for the month of May, plus four days of the ten days I rented in April, She kept the deposit and six days of rent. WHY did she keep six days of rent? Because it took six days for her to receive the written, signed, certified letter from me. She's not counting from the day I told her, but is squeezing out as much money as possible. Sorry...I call that petty.

Problem is now that she's refunded half my money, the stakes are lower so this voids out the use of a lawyer because the lawyer would cost more than any money I'd get returned. Maybe this was her strategy? Maybe she contacted her attorney and this was his/her advice? According to the wording of the lease if it were a normal situation and I just bailed for the fun of it, not only should I lose my deposit, but also be responsible for rent until the space is re-rented. The problem with this logic is how easy will it be for her to re-rent a moldy, insect-infested house? She's going to have to find someone as blind as I am. I also know moldy landlady is very picky about who she wants living on her property, so she's not going to rent it to just anyone. Sending me a partial refund is a strategy rather than a lease stipulation. I think she knows she can't keep my money because she can't rent it again until she forks out lots of money to fix it, but she's hoping this partial refund will satisfy me. And I'll walk away.

Not hardly. So here is my next step: Research. Hey, that's what we pay lawyers to do although I know for a fact they are much better at it than I am. There are state laws to read, ordinances to understand, and regulations to interpret. Some states, like California, have mold disclosure laws so the landlord MUST disclose the presence of black mold. California is always way ahead of everyone. My state doesn't. We have a "mold information law." The landlords are required to tell you about mold. How incredibly useless and ridiculous. Still, there are state law codes that will help my situation and override the lease.

For instance, she failed to provide a rental space that is habitable. Instead, the rental has issues that would "endanger the health and safety of tenants" and according to the Center for Disease Control, the Environmental Protection Agency, my state laws and most intelligent people, mold is a health hazard. She also failed to provide a "reasonable program for the control of insect infestation". Therefore, moldy landlady is derelict in her duties as a landlord and is guilty of managerial negligence. She is not compliant with state laws. She'll be getting a letter from me highlighting the state laws in question, listing my rights to health and safety as a tenant, re-summarizing the situation in conjunction with my lack of fault and her irresponsibility, emphasizing her managerial negligence, and demanding my full refund.

I'm not going away without a fight. I'm tired of people thinking they can take my money and screw me over. If she played this game with five more people, she'd have enough money to remodel the whole building. If in response to my letter she seeks the advice of an attorney...cha-ching. It'll cost her.  To go to court she better be very certain she did comply with state laws, which she didn't. It would be cheaper and in her best interest to just give me back my money. It's not like she did anything to earn it.

Checkmate, Moldy Slumlord. You're move.

May 24, 2013

I gave her until May 26th to return my money. Why so much time? I have no idea. Why a Sunday? I have no idea. I must have picked some random day that sounded good. Again, she waited until the last minute to meet the deadline. Today I get a certified letter from the slumlord accusing me of trying to take advantage of her because she is in a wheelchair with a broken foot. How am I taking advantage of her? She has my money; I don't have hers! In the letter she says she's refunding the six days of rent she previously didn't refund, not because of any legal obligation, but because she feels sorry for me. She kept the deposit. If she feels sorry for me, then why not refund the deposit, too?  I'm never quite sure of her refund rationale.

As someone who is chemically sensitive, how do I take her to small claims court? What happens if the judge is wearing perfume? Or the court reporter? Do I walk out? Suppose the slumlord wears perfume? If I walk out, will I be fined? I know if I walk out the case may be ruled in her favor so then what choice do I have? How does the law work for the chemically sensitive if courtroom exposures may limit our participation? It's a system of discrimination.

I'm just so grateful I got out of there when I did! I'm so glad I never have to have any contact with this slumlord or her moldy house again. It has definitely been a learning experience and it only cost $490. Cheaper than going to college!

HAZMAT

Today I mailed a package.

The postal woman asked, "Is the item you are mailing perishable, flammable, or dangerous?

No. I mail enough packages to know the drill. I was half asleep.

"Does it contain biological substances, alcohol, aerosols, lithium batteries or perfume?"

No..uh, WHAT? Did you say PERFUME?

Did you know perfume is dangerous? It is believe to be the cause of airplane fires that have gone unexplained for years.

Whoa!

Finally, someone in authority, a government entity, [The United States Postal Service] has recognized perfume is dangerous! Because it's flammable, it can only be shipped domestically and transported via surface mail. The postal woman is required to label it with a HAZMAT warning and contain it in a special crate so everyone is aware of the impending danger.

 

 

She went on to tell me perfumes are 10% alcohol which is flammable. Of course I chimed in with, "All perfumes have toluene which is an ingredient used to make explosives!"

She said airline personnel make the final decision and sometimes they put all the hazardous flammables into one crate and transport them all together. Eeewww. I don't ever want to be on that airplane!

 

Of course, I didn't stop there, "Perfume is dangerous and it's about time someone finally admitted it. It's made from toxic chemicals yet stupid people want to put it all over their bodies. No one should wear it and I have yet to figured out why it hasn't been banned."

With eyes wide and full of fear, the postal lady nodded in agreement.

It's just a matter of time. I mean, how many people out in the general public have ever told you perfume is dangerous? Maybe next, people who wear perfume will be classified as spontaneously combustible terrorists!?  I say throw them all in prison!

This gives me so much hope.

Rathole: A Photographic Essay

Welcome to Rathole. My home. My hell. Rathole has some redeeming qualities, points of vague interest, and a few really pretty sights. Any good photographer can find beauty amongst the wreckage, but it takes someone with insight to feature the hidden reality. Call me a realist. Let's have a look.

This is my favorite view of Rathole. It says it all.

 

 

Most of Rathole is in various degrees of decay. Few new property owners with money and energy bother to see potential. Needed repairs are ignored, the building left abandoned and the structure disintegrates.



 

 

When a building falls down or burns down, the rubble is left where it is. If someone complains loudly enough, the rubble is removed and a vacant lot is born. Rathole has lots of vacant lots.



 

The local junk man is not what he seems. Years ago he won the lottery. Millions. With his new-found wealth, he bought up debilitated buildings and vacant lots and turned them into junk yards and slums.

Rathole is now one big junk yard with the old and used on every corner...

 

...and stored in every empty building. There should be a law against this, but if there were, I doubt if anyone would care enough to enforce it. Rathole suffers from apathy.

 



 

 

Junkman, Lord of the Slums, also wins the award as the number one slumlord. He doesn't care. There is a certain justice to poverty restricting trailer trash from owning land. Unfortunately, anyone is allowed to buy a lottery ticket.

 

 

I had a police officer tell me once you can tell which properties are Junkman's. The ones that look like they should be condemned. Junkman's step-daughter used to live near me. She told me she asked Junkman when he dies to will her the blue apartments so she could burn them to the ground. I didn't even know which ones she was talking about. The "blue" is so faded and dirty I didn't think it was blue:

Junkman used to be the owner of the most popular bar. Here's the bar:

It was condemned. And then it just fell down and disappeared. Now he uses the lot for storage. Open-air storage:

One can always tell how destitute a location is. When times get tough, people head to the local bars to drown their sorrows, find a compassionate ear, and feel as if things aren't so bad. The problem with frequenting bars is unless you have some really generous friends willing to foot the bill, you gotta have money for those drinks. Management usually frowns on a customer nursing a glass of water every night and friends will eventually expect you to reciprocate.

If no one has money, even the bars go out of business.

Unable to reciprocate the generosity and buy a round for everyone?


...the truly poor head to church. It's free.



Where Life and Faith Meet...it's peeling!

A place to drown sorrows, find a compassionate ear and maybe some charity so it doesn't feel so bad. Rathole has a whole lot of churches scattered throughout the town and over the countryside. More churches than bars. That's always a sign.

The exceptionally poor head to one of the break-off churches. These congregations aren't affiliated with the money-worshipping religions who actually have an official meeting place and must guilt parishioners into paying for upkeep and taxes. Rathole has a whole lot of rental congregations so it's good Rathole has a whole lot of businesses that have gone under and are now trying to rent out their store fronts for cheap.

I'm sure they were liberated from the tyrannical, corporate-like religions who congregate in church buildings. They have moved their location many times, from one deserted building to the next abandoned store front.

 

They just pick up their plastic chairs and walk them a block away.

Residents who have lived in Rathole all their lives tell me the place was booming in the 1960s. They boast of a community filled with department stores, car dealerships, restaurants, gas stations, and more than one major grocery chain. I've read some history on the area along with population statistics. At one point this town claimed 40,000 residents. Now it's just 2000 people with wistful memories of days gone by. People who leave take their money with them. Eventually there is not enough consumers to buy anything. Every year businesses have closed their doors leaving buildings empty.

Department store chains have left town.

 

 

Car dealerships have uprooted everything leaving vacant lots.

Diners with empty seats.

Grocery stores have razed their buildings to the concrete.

This used to be Safeway...

Bakeries no longer bake yummy treats and instead harbor old, ugly furniture.

Gas stations are used for storage and parking.

 

Appliance store marquees are blank and windows dark.

Rental signs fill the windows of most empty buildings. (Well, if they aren't filled with Junkman's junk!)

Not to mention the vacant homes left to suffocate in mold and mildew.

Everything is left to rot and disintegrate.

Even in the relatively short time I've been living in Rathole, I've seen many businesses closed. Rathole is heading toward ghost town distinction. Or extinction.

Rathole is, however, well-known by tourists. It's the stop-off location between point A and B on the recreational vehicle tour. Rathole is where road-trip tourists stop to let their dogs out to crap. Not much else to do in Rathole.

My home is a dog toilet.

 

 

I'm looking forward to moving.

Plant Some Shit!

Watch this video on guerrilla gardening!

 

Ron Finley. I love this guy.

 

 

 

 

I love his attitude and his dream.

 

He's tired of having to drive forty-five minutes round trip to get an apple that hasn't been impregnated with pesticides. I hear ya! Try forty-five minutes one way!

He gives me hope and makes me happy.

 

He inspires me to want to find an abandoned lot and...

Plant some shit!

 



Construction Slimebag

Good news! I was in the hardware store yesterday buying construction supplies for the projects I must complete this summer. Unfortunately, since there are no decent construction workers within a 50 mile radius, I'm the one that gets to sling wood, hammer nails, paint house parts, and haul heavy things. Blah.

Joe, the hardware helper and village gossip, asks how I've been and I tell him I just completed fixing the mess that slimebag ignorant sleaze did last summer [thank you, Joe, for recommending him]. It's been my mission in the past year to let everyone know every chance I get what a fine job that scuzbucket did on my house. And to make sure they don't forget, remind them. Joe tells me slimebag is no longer around. I asked if someone finally sent him back to prison where he belongs. Joe laughs and says no, he went to Portland. (Warning to Portlandians...)

"Hooray!" I cheered. I guess my one-woman anti-advertising campaign worked. More than likely no one would hire him around here. Word spreads fast in small towns. I knew that.

So I went home and looked up his state license online. As you may recall, I turned him into the authorities and he was forced to get a license in October of 2012. He got his first infraction in November. HAHAHA He didn't last long. Accountability is a back stabber to dishonest people.

Got to run. Time to roll out a five-gallon bucket of aluminum coating on my roof....