Some readers may remember that I was evicted from my home of 28 years last March.
I intended to return -- as is my right -- but because of the long fight we three tenants put up, the landscum was seriously pissed at us and was screwing around with the renovations and not giving us any information about when we could return.
And some readers may remember that in July this year, I got notice that I was going to be evicted from my temporary digs.
I have updates on both situations.
In late September, we finally heard when we could move back: the two other fighters on December 1; moi, ringleader and chief pain-in-the-ass, to be screwed around for a further month, so January 1. January 1 being both a stat holiday and a Friday, I planned to do the actual move on the Monday the 4th and use professional movers.
July's bad news about having to leave the temporary place fizzled. I heard no more about it. So, while the uncertainty was driving me bats, I kept my fingers crossed and hoped for the best.
On October 2, there was a knock at the door. Landscum's agent telling me the move was on again. I pleaded with him. 'I have a date now. I'm leaving here in early January. Can't I stay for three more months?' Nope. Gotta be out by the end of the month. But not to worry, his guys would move me to a space in sweetie's building (I'm living with sweetie; his landlord owns this place too). I pleaded with him some more, embarrassing description of which I'll spare you.
Gotta move THREE times in nine months.
Agent had said there were several vacant spaces in sweetie's building. I collared one of the maintenance guys and asked him to show them to me. There were three, all huge, one with no windows, but wotthehell, eh?
I called agent and left a message that any of them would do, but that I need a firm date because I've got clients and deadlines. No return call. I called again, left another message, no return call.
I realize that the word insanity should not be misused, but I do believe that I was seriously not myself there for a while. And I think sweetie would confirm that, poor guy.
Finally, I emailed the agent to say that I was trying to be accommodating and would he PLEASE GET THE FUCK IN TOUCH WITH ME??!!?
In the meantime, I had called the previous tenant here to tell her again that I was being tossed out and perhaps she'd like to come and get the crap of hers (tables, filing cabinet) that I'd been storing for her for free for eight months.
Yeah, yeah, sure, sure, she said again.
So, October draws to a close. No contact from agent and previous tenant does not appear.
Early November, previous tenant calls. She's coming over. And does, two hours after she said she'd be here. But, whatever. . .
She tells me that she has been talking to the agent who told her that I don't have to leave here.
She elaborates: 'He said it was all a big misunderstanding.'
Gee. My mistake. I heard 'you've got to be out by the end of the month' but he actually knocked on my door to tell me that I could stay until whenever.
(She took a toaster and an electric kettle and said she'd be back for the other crap. Yeah, right.)
I go home to sweetie's and tell him.
Sweetie's got his own problems with the landlord. His lease is up and he has not been given any indication of what the new terms may be. For months, he's been hearing from other tenants that rents are being raised by 20%. People are freaking out and leaving. Hence, vacant spaces for moi.
He's very worried. Finally, he button-holes the agent and gets more assurances that his lease is soon-come and he gets the story behind my 'big misunderstanding'.
According to the agent, the actual landlord-guy asked 'someone' (agent was coy about who the 'someone' was) what I am paying here. Someone said: 'Oh, I don't know, something like $85 a month'. (No. More like four times that. And I'd been told to write the cheques to landlord personally, not the corporation.) Oddly, landlord believes 'someone', goes ballistic and says I gotta get out of here.
Somewhere in there between the agent knocking on my door and the previous tenant telling me I did not have to vacate, sense returned to landlord and his minions.
But they didn't think it necessary to tell ME.
OK, here's the kicker. Two times over my tenancy here, I've noticed on my bank statement that rent cheques hadn't been cashed. Two times I called the office to inform them of the fact. Once I was asked for a replacement cheque, once I guess they found it because I didn't hear anything more.
Again in November, statement revealed that rent cheque had not been cashed. I checked again online and it still hasn't been cashed.
Third time's the charm. I have not called the office.
Oh, and sweetie's rent did not go up by 20%, more like 5%, which he can handle.
Man, will I be glad to get outta this frying pan and back into my old fire.
But I have the feeling that the housing gods are not done with me yet.