CoffeeJules

The very next day after my seemingly endless bout with Covid in May 2021 and upon the doctor’s release, immediately I reapplied for my passport. I would take life by the horns and well, just bring some change.

Interesting how reality has other plans. But at least I did begin some much needed changes. 

After careful review and contemplation, I met with a trusted confidant who has had success in real estate locally. We met several times over the course of the summer after Covid. Mostly via phone and a few face to face working lunches. It’s always good to have your life viewed through a different lens.

My assignment was to gather information on the properties in my portfolio then chart a course if I were to sell one or a few of them, write down the least favorite house to most favorite. After that, determine when the properties were purchased. Try to asses a current value and the perceived equity I would stand to gain once the property was sold. Basically what I owe. What I can sell for. And how much is left over. Then where to spend that money. Fun right? Well not exactly. 

I had a trip scheduled for Honduras. Why there? I had never been. I had a passport ready for stamping. I know a local family who is from there and they take trips there occasionally. So why not go with a local citizen and take in something new? 

Unfortunately, that trip was postponed, then cancelled. I had a closing that landed on the day I was to be in Tegucigalpa (try saying that with a mouthful of crackers). 

The process of selling some of the properties began and it is much more time consuming than I had originally planned. Couple that with I’m not the most organized person and well it’s even more daunting. I’m a procrastinator and one day I’ll get my life in order. 

A December trip to Mexico City was also cancelled. And no Christmas celebration with anyone other than helping with animal charities. Alone again. Naturally. 

Obviously no plans were made to sell the suburban property which Emily and her family occupied. Besides I had always liked that house. So no immediate plans other than keeping a good looking green-eyed tenant there and getting the rent paid. Which she did. On time. Every month. All quiet however. No reason to call except maybe for a few things. The faucet she needed replaced, as far as I know, wasn’t. And she at one time asked about installing a gutter above the front door. From a landlord’s perspective it’s needs versus wants. I act promptly and certainly address immediately the needs. Wants on the other hand, not so much. 

Yes I did notice Emily and I were not communicating. 

I didn’t need to contact her. I wanted to contact her. 

Needs versus wants again. 

Always the reminder, “Don’t be friendly with the tenants. Don’t become a friend. Keep it business.”

Getting past the summer months and our friendly conversations with Emily, it was nice getting to know her a little at a time. Even though all I could offer were my comedic versions of my uneventful single life, I was momentarily trying to offer her somewhat of a temporary distraction of work and sleep pattern she routinely filled amidst her grief of losing her life long husband and to run her household at the same time. 

The final three months of 2021 we didn’t engage in much conversation. In most cases when a repair was needed I would contact both the tenant and technician to coordinate their schedules. Obviously, I don’t live there and wouldn’t know a time frame to give. For instance, a faucet needed to be replaced. I contacted the plumber and Emily via phone. Then I would group text both so they had each other’s number to coordinate a time. October came and went – nothing. As did November. Then December. I didn’t ask either party for a follow up. My feeling is they’re both adults and if a plumber needs to send me a bill then I know he did the work. Or if the tenant calls me to say the faucet wasn’t replaced – then I need to call the plumber. Strangely no one called. “If they don’t tell me, I’m not asking” was my attitude. 

It was quiet. 

There were times when I did want to call her to ask thus giving me an excuse to speak with Emily. I mean had good reason to call. Still I didn’t. 

Meanwhile the rent was getting paid. Always on time. 

The summer of 2021 after Covid was a challenge in general. Even though the virus itself was gone, it would take about 3 months to fully recover, especially to regain full breathing capacity. 

For exercise, it was normal for me to lap swim at a YMCA and usually at 5 am. If you have never tried it, you should. It is a fantastic way to start a day. Plus it is a great way to sleep at night. Once your head hits the pillow you’re out. You’re tired in a good way if that makes sense. Pre-covid it was normal for me to swim 30 to 35 laps daily or every other day. Post-covid it was too much to ask. Deep breathing would remain difficult. 

There’s a park close to my home and that’s where I would jog – well more like walk – in order to exercise my breathing capacity. I feel we too easily find blame on something or someone. For example, sure there’s difficulties associated with Covid, but why wait for a doctor or medication? Do what you can to improve your your way of life. Maintaining your health is your personal responsibility. 

Emily had been such a benefit in just speaking to her during Covid that I would call her occasionally when I was on a walk in the park. So in essence I was slowly getting to know her on a personal level. And she was receptive to my calls. I learned about her past. Her present. Not too much of her future obviously. She was going through some pain undoubtedly due to her husband passing. If anything, I hope I was also bringing her a distraction and a modicum of therapy of some type. There isn’t a textbook process to grieve over loss. There is no right or wrong way. Plus she had family that was going through the same grief. I wasn’t sure if she had other people to speak with so I made sure and listen to what she was going through and not just about me, me, and me. 

Either way, I was enjoying our conversations. And I too was opening up to her and gabbing about my not so social life and the rigors of being a single man in Houston. It’s not what it’s cracked up to be. I shared part of that with her to provide her with comic relief. I had some crazy stories (as most singles do). I would go on dates and then share details about it . Hey who doesn’t like good gossip, right?

But through all that time on dates, the one common denominator Emily grew accustomed to was me simply saying “there wasn’t any spark.” Time and again I would go on a Friday or Saturday dinner date and either my date “wasn’t into me” or I “wasn’t into her”. No spark. 

I had dated a girl for five years previously. So I’m capable of being in a relationship. But we became more of a habit really instead of planning something meaningful. We had become buddies and slowly grew ever distant. I would tell her I was her Uber driver and was only there to buy her dinner. She resented that remark. But that’s how I felt. And that’s how it wound up being. Just someone to go do things with. 

It’s not that I like being alone, but isn’t it better to be with the right person? I’m not lonely, however I am lonely for the right person. Not sure that even makes sense. 

Slowly Emily was building a case history about me as well. Peeling off layers and telling people about me is usually not my forte. It was fun telling Emily my semi-private soap opera. Our lives were completely antithetical. She had been married half of her life and had several children. I have never married and no children. 

Telling myself, “stop being friendly with tenants” wasn’t working. At least not with this particular property. 

It was the fifth month of the year 2021 that I first became aware I am a mere mortal species. And a rude awakening it turned out to be. There are many things that nudge us to put life in perspective. This opportunity, if I survived, would serve as said perspective. 

Looking back, the novel Corona virus was steadily and fortunately on a downward trend. I felt lucky that perhaps I dodged a bullet and would come away unscathed. 

Was I wrong. 

I was in the middle of tending to repairs to Emily’s house. Electricians to deal with. Invoices to pay. The rains kept me, Emily, and electricians on a “hurry up and wait” mode. Meanwhile Emily had a household to run. And for obvious reasons, she would text intermittently on the status of repairs, and always in a cordial civil manner. 

Covid hit me. And it hit hard. All told for a total of 10 days. Specifically of the ten days, 3 would be some of the most difficult moments I’ve had to endure. Ever. 

Either it was sharp razor blades or thumb tacks or sewing needles I swallowed but maybe it was three or four dozen. That’s how I felt for 72 long grueling agonizing hours. Additionally, one full breath was a half breath. The hardest part would be to hold panic at bay and being cognizant not to hyperventilate. Maybe somewhere in the 41st or 43rd hour, I had actually looked up my ex-girlfriend’s phone number. We had broken up in 2020 and really there wasn’t anyone who really even knew  me. Strange I know even though I lived in a city of 4 million citizens. I felt someone needed to know I was about to embark to the afterlife. I went as far as looking up her number on my phone. I chuckle now at realizing I couldn’t find her name in my contacts. I did that because I changed her name in my contacts so as to never even have to think of her. Silly I know, but that’s what I had done. 

Still, I never called. 

“Yeah you did sound unsure of yourself. You seemed afraid. I could sense it in your voice,” Emily would say months later. 

Truth is, that was an accurate statement. 

She didn’t know this, but Emily became that one beacon to provide direction. She was well-versed in how medications interact due to her previously mentioned background in the medical field. 

During the 10-day sickness, 2 calls were made daily. One to my doctor on FaceTime. And one to Emily via voice or text. 

So much for my personal rule of never engaging in friendly dialogue with any tenant occupying any of my properties. That flew out the window with Emily. I felt it justified since I was only speaking to her due to her ability to help me understand medication. 

In the meantime, there were bouts of delirium and ultimately intense hallucinations. I recall sleeping with all the lights on in the house. Most of this was brought on by medications, I’m sure. The anxiety was a byproduct. 

Sure other people would experience only a sore throat coupled with a loss of taste and smell. Conversely my olfactory faculties were incredibly sharp. I could not only taste water, I could smell it. But in that situation, the last thing I wanted was to taste and smell. I didn’t eat for days. If I did, I would force down cooked bland rice to help the meds go down. Everyone’s health is different. For whatever reason, my covid experience was a battle for the ages. It would last from May 15th through May 25th. 

If I would accomplish anything May 26th, it would be renewing my passport. That was the first and only thing on my agenda May 26. I remember it was on a Friday. And procuring my passport would at least serve as the impetus to help make changes in my life. It’s not that travel is important to me, it’s not. But if I did want to travel I would be ready. 

The work on Emily’s house was almost done. So June would be an expensive one to pay up for the work. But again, it was needed and necessary. And that’s the cost of doing business. More importantly, Emily proved she is beyond patient. None of the problems were brought on by her yet it would affect her family daily. 

Post covid things changed. I viewed things differently. I would appreciate things more and recognize them for what they were. I felt I no longer had a landlord-tenant arrangement, other than an official lease agreement that someone occupied that property. My covid battle made me trust Emily with pretty much anything I had to say. She would became a trusted sounding board for anything going on in my life.

For that, I was ever grateful. 

My fourth tenant in that suburban property. And probably the most intriguing. As previously mentioned, it’s never a good idea to befriend someone whenever there’s business transactions involved. And this wouldn’t be any different. Still Emily’s life seemed interesting to me. Due to her background, she was highly skilled in the medical field. As time went on, it would play a role in getting to know her a bit more. 

“Our” first month as a tandem saw some challenges. Almost immediately Murphy’s Law would rear its head seemingly on a daily basis. Things started spinning into disarray almost at the same time she unlocked the door to her home the first day.  It was almost as if the house was slowly starting to implode from the inside out. Things that were never an issue suddenly became an issue. The type that you can’t just hold off. It was necessary immediately. And expensive. 

Pest control was the first thing. Not that big of a deal. Then issues with electrical outlets. BIG deal. The stove, which was brand new and she would be the first user, was going on the blink. 

Sent a general repairman that I’ve known to look things over. Looks like we were back in business. 

Then a week later. Lights aren’t working in different rooms. 

This time an electrical technician was sent out. Change this out. Change that out. Got it.

Nope. That didn’t last. 

Came back out. This time more thorough.

Emily’s sleep patterns were at times odd due to her job. And we communicated well throughout the process. Slowly we would drop a smart aleck remark from time to time and conversation was a bit friendlier. But again, kept it professional at all times. 

Another electrical problem ensued. Only this time, it was major. And once again…..expensive. A trench would need to be dug the entire length of the property’s back yard in order to accommodate fiber optic cable. And then suddenly here came the rain. And it rained. And it rained

And rained

And rained

And rained 

It rained for 40 days and 40 nights it seemed. 

Work stoppage occurred. Water was deep in the trench. Too sloppy to do any type of anything. 

I wondered to myself if Emily was having self doubts about the property. I know if I were in her shoes, I would. Still I fielded every call or text she had ever sent in a very timely manner. Constantly communicating with the electric technician and relaying it back to her. Because of her sleep cycles early on, I felt it was best to channel communication through me instead of the electrical technician calling during “normal” work day hours risking the chance of waking her up. 

And then without warning my health suddenly took a turn for the worse. And it would be a reckoning I had never faced before. 

There’s a reason why I say that. If you’re of the age you recognize that song, I’ll add another one, Bonnie Tyler’s “It’s a heartache”.

When you first meet someone, it’s common to notice that “first thing” about them. Their eyes. Their hair. Something for the memory to associate a visualization of that person.

Emily’s eyes can be soft hazel or more of the verdant side at times. Friendly and engaging. Fortunately I didn’t have to experience anything past that. Well maybe a few times it did escalate hahaha, but not to the point of screaming. It was more to stress a point if I interrupted her, which I have a bad habit of doing. (Note to self: one more thing I need to work on)

When we first began speaking I may have even asked or at least suggested she give singing a try. Her voice has this raspy edge much like Bonnie Tyler or Kim Carnes. Fittingly, Bonnie Tyler sang “It’s a Heartache”.

Yes, Emily decided to lease the house.

Yes I did pay her son, amid my embarrassment, for mowing the grass 2 to 3 years ago. I simply didn’t know.

Today I miss Emily’s raspy yet sultry voice. I would even allow her to yell at me if it were possible.

She was taller than I remembered. But when I exchanged greetings with her 3 years prior, she was at a distance.

As I unlocked the front door, “Uhm we mowed your yard and you never paid us,” her son said.

“Harrison!!!”, his mom shot back. “What did I tell you?!”

Her son sheepishly shrugged his shoulders, “Well….”

Not hiding my embarrassment, “Seriously? Oh my gosh, you were never paid?”  I asked. “Just as soon as I get home and get your Zelle info I PROMISE I will pay you!! I am so sorry!”

“Wow,” I thought to myself, “I’ve really impressed her, me being a broke slumlord and all. Gosh why didn’t anyone tell me?? I always leave my neighbors a card in case they need to reach me. All someone had to do was call and say, ‘hi we mowed your grass.”  

It wasn’t too much of me to ask. Now here I am trying to recover from a very embarrassing moment. 

To be sure, it’s safe to say I made sure to not ever come across as flirtatious with anyone. It’s not professional and it’s just not a good idea whatsoever. Especially in this case when she is at the property and in the company of her children. As much as I wanted to ask about a husband, it’s none of my business. I guess mentally I just acknowledge she is an attractive women and I’d leave it at that. Also, in my 10 to 11 years of being a landlord, it’s even a better idea not to become friends with a tenant. In fact, let’s just call it a bad idea. 

If there were ever a Real Estate or Landlord 101 class, the very first chapter should be a landlord’s responsibility to provide a service to a family. And to take that responsibility very seriously. A family is entrusting me to be able to always have a safe place for them to shelter in. And they will in turn pay a fair market price to occupy that house and treat it as their own, because it IS their house now. They have a document to prove it. 

After careful consideration, Emily and her family decided to occupy the property beginning in April 2021. In the weeks and months to come, everything I just wrote about regarding a landlord’s responsibilities would be tested. 

And as far as me wondering what her “situation” was, I found the answer while perusing her lease application. It was located right next to the hair color box. Marital status – in her pretty penmanship I read “widowed”.

March 2021 Emily would become a part of my life. Albeit in a manner related to business since we began communication regarding the rental of my property in the suburbs. 

Any skill or aptitude I possess in terms of property management is self-learned or learned on the job. It was never my intent to even be involved in real estate. I had a full-time and so really real estate would be more of a nuisance.

A hard lesson was learned in 2008 as the US economy took a nose dive with the primary culprit being – ironically, real estate. Only this was done due to overzealous mortgage lenders practically handing out money in bags. If you had a pulse, you qualified for a loan. No checks or balances. No credit checks other than “yeah I see you have a job you’ve held down for 8 months, a checking account and 50 dollars in savings;  so sign here for your $250,000 loan.” Simple, that it was. But it all came crashing down, and hard. There’s more than plenty of sad stories witnessed. Innocent tenants chased out of homes since landlords were not paying mortgages even though tenants were paying rents. Stories of mortgage representatives knocking on doors and asking for the owner. “Is James Smith home?”

Occupier of the house: Uhhh he is the landlord.

Mortgage company: He hasn’t made a mortgage payment in months.

Occupier of the house: Well I pay him rent on time every month.

Mortgage company: You’ll have to leave this property in 30 days since your landlord isn’t paying on this house. We’re starting foreclosure and it’s best you leave.”

Stories like this were common.  Consequently banks were going out of business. It would start to domino in a hurry. With all the banks going out, massive layoffs occurred. People weren’t working. Unemployment escalated. It became ugly in a hurry.  It affected every segment of the economy until it boiled over in the stock market. 

The one positive to all this meltdown was….it created an opportunity. If you sacrificed and saved, soon there would be a chance to make back what was lost. But it would take patience and time. And sweat. And stress. And more stress.

I, like most people, lost half of my life savings in 2008. That isn’t an exaggeration, it really did happen. I can almost feel the tension again of reading my account statement lose half of its value. My stomach turned upside down. And it wasn’t even my fault. I did make myself a promise however. If my retirement would ever find its way back to get within 10% of what I USED TO HAVE, I would immediately sell off all my retirement account and NEVER invest in the stock market again. Those were some dark days. Finally some 24 to 28 long months later, it ever so slowly crept back up. 

Only issue was “where do I invest? I can’t just keep it in a checking account.” I could also go back to investing in the NYSE until the next crash. As if we have a crystal ball to know when that is to occur again. With the market, it’s not a matter of if it will crash again….but when.

I never ran to real estate happily with both hands wide open. Opposite, in fact. So many things to learn. How to buy a house. Then repair it. I don’t even know how to change a door lock. Then of course having to learn a new trade – dealing with personalities. Dealing with people. Dealing with tenants. Oh joy.

I purchased my first property in 2010 in the suburbs. The same house 11 years later that I’m contacting Emily about to see when she would have the time to fill out a lease agreement.

I look for her number Nidal gave me and wonder what Emily’s story is, and why she’s looking for a house. I saw her a couple of years back at the house next door to mine. I wondered why she moved. 

Riiinnngg. Rinngggg “Hmmmm there’s no answer…”

Rinngggg Rinnngggg “Looks like it’s going to voice mail…”

“Hello Emily? Uhmm yeah this is Jules. You’re probably at work so I’ll leave you a voice mail. Got your number from Nidal and well let me give you my number so you can call me at your convenience about maybe renting this house. You can call me anytime at…..”

Upon leaving her a voice mail I think to myself, “maybe back then she was married but divorced, so now she needs a place?”

Minutes later my phone rings….

“Hi this is Emily….”

Snoopy speaks the truth.

As it came to pass, my suburban tenant submitted a 30-day notice in mid-February 2021 to move out. What follows is business per the usual. Nothing uncommon, just the standard tenant giving a final move-out day and hand over the keys. Walk the property checking for anything out of the ordinary. Thankfully I don’t have any horror stories with previous tenants. And this particular property has always been a good stable performer. In the 10 years of ownership, it’s only had 3 tenants. The search for the 4th tenant however, would be an interesting adventure. 

The month of March began in earnest to make the necessary updates and repairs. Nothing extravagant. Normal wear and tear to the property. Blinds, an occasional ceiling fan, A/C maintenance. At times a new stove. Point is to get all this done while the property is vacant. 

Interestingly, Nidal (the tenant that moved out) sent a text to call him. We spoke briefly and he was inquiring for someone he and his family knew quite well – their former neighbor. Seems she had moved out but was looking to be back in that same subdivision due the proximity of the school preferences for her children. 

“Here is her number,” he began. 

“And her name is Emily……”