In perusing rental listings for my new place, I encountered a tantalizing offer in a central neighborhood. The posted rent - $550 - seemed too good to be true .......... yeah, a flag (see House Hunters 1).
You can see links here (I'm including several in case one or more goes bad):
Nevertheless, I shot out an inquiry to see if the inevitable "....but" was something I could live with.
About a week later, I received this:
Thank you for your interest in my apartment and sorry for my late response (I hope you are still looking for a home).
First of all I must tell you that I own the place and it's not a sublease. I imagine you searched several apartments so let me refresh your memory, mine it's located on 2717 Highland Ave S in Birmingham, it is a 1 bed, 1 bath, 855 sq. ft. apartment, parking and utilities included - $550.00 monthly rent for the entire place, available as we speak (a full description and all the photos can be seen on the website of the listing company, you can find it bellow in his original email).
My full name is Jenifer Erenner, you can call me Jen. I own several properties in the US and abroad. I'm a retired stockbroker by the way so money is not the issue here, I'm just looking for a serious tenant that will take care of the place so can you please tell me a few things about you and your way of life.
Anyway, check the attached photos and if you're good to go, just send me a reply and I will explain the rental process.
Thank you for your time,
I walked over to Google to see what might come up for Jenifer Erenner ("you can call me Jen").
Given the ubiquity of Erenner's name on long- and short-term rental sites, along with her (if there is a "her") accomplices, you'd think big data websites like apartments dot com, apartmentfinder dot com, and airbnb ("we take your security very seriously") would flex a little of their mighty muscles and rout the obvious scammers out.
I sincerely hope there is not a true Jenifer Erenner out there whose identity has been stolen.
There's likely at least one person reading this who is saying they'd never fall for such an obvious scheme. Don't you ever watch Survivor?
Smart people and "highly educated" people get taken in all the time. Especially in fraught times such as COVID.
Sharing of the salt in the communal kitchen, Casa de los Amigos, Mexico City. November 2018.
Over my lifetime, I've had a few communal-living experiences. Each had its ups and downs. For the most part, the "downs" have made for amusing stories.
Like that time, as a college freshman, when I walked into the unlocked communal bathroom at the quasi-university-related house, much to the surprise of the peeing-in-progress university professor (the house 'advisor'), who, upon being so startled, swiveled to the right, whilst still holding his spraying penis, intending to recover his modesty, at which he succeeded, but at the expense of watering the wall next to the toilet.
Since my Tucson departure, thanks in large part to COVID, I found myself relying far more on motel stays than on ChezP sleeps. Each week that passed in a Motel 6, glottal moans and vibrating bones from my frugal Swiss ancestors pleaded with me to stop this spending madness.
To escape the motel-go-round, I sought a one-month rental somewhere in Birmingham. Ooh, not many options. A couple of extended stay hotel operations were at capacity.
I did, however, find one possible candidate. The rent was more than I could sustain for more than a month, but with a month's breathing space, I could find just the right place for my time in Birmingham.
I contacted the house owner - who rented out several of her bedrooms - and we made an appointment for me to visit her house.
I said on the call: "I'll be wearing a mask when I come." I assumed she'd be reassured by that, right? Before she allowed a complete stranger inside her air space - and which her current renters also shared? Yeah, well.
The owner - let's call her Melinda - gave me a heads-up about her steep driveway and how her neighbors got cranky when the house residents parked in front of their houses, so would I be sure to use that steep driveway? And that she knew when she saw my masked presence at her threshold it would remind her to put on her own mask.
You know that bit in Monty Python and the Holy Grail, when God appears in the sky and intones something to the knights below? This one:
After that first contact with Melinda, the skies above opened a bit to reveal a pale gold light with a circle of shimmering flags. They waved ever so gently.
I drove waaaaaaaaay out to a subdivision that I guess is still kind of Birminghamish.
There may be 20 streets in Melinda's subdivision, all with the same name, but with different suffixes: Street, Lane, Drive, Way, Terrace, Court, Avenue, Circle, Point, Overlook, Peak, Summit, Valley, Jump-off, Abyss, etc.
The subdivision boasts many, many cul de sacs, which were all the shit 20 years ago.
Finally, I arrived at Melinda's cul de sac and saw the driveway.
And this is where those soft-focus flags above crisped up and I heard the first snap of cloth.
I had assumed that the driveway climbed up steeply, thus was unprepared to discover a driveway that is flat for a bit, but then you see only the empty air in front of you because the concrete plummets so precipitously that you are pushing out on faith - like that scene in Indiana Jones and the Last Crusade, when Indy must step out onto nothingness in that act of faith.
Unlike Indy, evidently, I'm agnostic, and I said to myself, "No, no, no, no, Mzuri. You will not do this." I backed out and found the one spot in the cul de sac that wasn't in front of a driveway or mailbox.
While I walked up to Melinda's front door, I wondered if I could live with that driveway for a month.
I rang the doorbell, masked, and Melinda opened up, unmasked. She saw me, and said, "Oh! Right, I'll go get my mask!" Throughout my visit, she messed with her mask, up and down, stretching it out, letting it return to her face, saying that it was hard for her to wear a mask for health reasons.
The room I'd have: Unremarkable. A ceiling fan, which is always nice. No lock for the door. Unfortunate. I'd tested the internet speed down in the living room before I even looked at the room, because that was a deal-breaker. I tested it again in the bedroom. Super fast internet.
I would share a Jack and Jill bath with one of the housemates. Ew. Not the sharing (though at the price Melinda was asking despite the house's location and ridiculous driveway, I should have had my own bath). It was the dirtiness of the toilet that made me say ew. I envisioned a future when I'd have to choose between two roles: Nagging Mom or Martyr Mom, who is the one who cleans the toilet so she can have a clean one.
Melinda's dog tends to poop in the house - "because he's a rescue" - and so housemates need to be careful to close doors. Because sweetie likes to visit all the rooms.
One refrigerator for, I don't know, five or six adults. I've been there before; the Tucson house had food hoarders. Back in the day at the communal house for university students, a housemate ATE MY TUNA! when I was so poor that I could only afford saltines and tuna for lunch every day.
A really nice screened-in porch, but that's "kind of for the woman who rents the room with a door that opens directly onto that porch" (even though there's a door that also opens onto that porch from the community porch), but "she's gone so often that I'm sure she wouldn't mind if you ...."
"Let me show you something in the newest housemate's room - he hasn't even moved in yet, he's so new." I said I didn't feel comfortable entering someone else's room - "Oh, I'm sure he won't mind." Yeah, no. I am not going to enter a housemate's room without their express permission even if they haven't quite moved in yet. Because, for one: It's not my room. Because, for two: I sure as heck don't want you to come into my room because you're "sure I won't mind."
The requested rent is $675 per month plus shared utilities. I asked Melinda about the usual cost of the shared utilities - oh, she said blithely, "about $100 per person." Say what????
And the cost to move in? $40 or so for a background check and one month's deposit (because she's got some very nice things in her house; expensive things). Cash or money order. Today. (But she's got 30 days after you leave to return the security deposit. Even though she can see readily if there's any reason to keep some of it, as she lives right there.)
By this point, those flags in the sky were whipping so sharply that they would cut flesh.
Nope.
Sidebar notes:
Prospective landlords are always surprised when I ask what kind of documentation about their backgrounds are they willing to give me? May I see your driver's license? May I do a background check on you? Because trust works both ways when one is living in the same house. Right?
Prospective landlords such as Melinda (and the ones in Tucson and El Paso) have a right rosy view of what their house is worth to prospective renters, not to mention their design aesthetics.
However, I have learned that renters are presumed untrustworthy, as evidenced not only by some of the absurdities that prospective renters experience, but how companies charge renters more for their services than homeowners.
If you think this post comes across as a little rant-y, I'd agree with you.
Generally, if I go look at a place, it's with detachment. Will the place work for me at a price I can afford? Yes, no, maybe?
But in this case, I felt flummoxed by Melinda's normalization of a dog that poops anywhere it pleases (including space I'm paying for), of carelessness about her housemates' (and visitors') health with her mask antics, and the disrespect for her renters' personal spaces.
And she seemed so oblivious about her behaviors.
Apparently she Pushed a Button. Or maybe my experience with her was simply the last straw of an accumulation of such absurdities by the Tucson and El Paso landlords.
To tell you the truth, though, my experience wasn't so much disturbing as it was sitcom-worthy.
Derelict house Highway 54 between Vaughn and Santa Rosa, New Mexico. September 2013.
When I embark on a house hunting search, I consult various sources, including craigslist, hotpads, apartments.com, real estate property managers, zillow, and online forums.
During my Tucson search, a forum responder proposed that I had filet mignon expectations on a hamburger budget.
I burst into laughter upon reading this.
My last place - I didn't even have a stove. I called it my French kitchen, a kitchen comprised of components:
A borrowed toaster oven
A borrowed electric skillet
A folding table for a counter, borrowed
Heheheheh.
Filet mignon! The idea!
Well, wait.
I did have filet mignon there:
Well-aged wood floors gentled with a soft patina
The wash of daylight that bathed my 1970s shower and tub, a luxury compared to the space capsule in my El Paso apartment
A garage! First ever in my adult life! Did it matter that it was in the basement and three flights of stairs going down AND coming up? No! A garage!
The red fox that visited the big blue dumpsters one morning, licking sweet remains from a slippery plastic wrap
Congenial neighbors
An easy walk to the grocery store or library, beneath mature trees and alongside bursting yellow, orange, white, and indigo flower gardens
Bathroom, Ferguson, Missouri. November 2017.
And in Opelousas:
Lovely light that streamed through tall, old windows
A lush spring-flowering tree outside a window, which a melodious mockingbird called home
A gentleman neighbor who spent many a day babysitting his young grandsons, and who accompanied me on occasion to the local casino for a bit of dancing
Opelousas apartment. Opelousas, Louisiana. April 2015.
My El Paso apartment - in the back, unseen. El Paso, Texas. August 2016.
Back here I visited house hunting present and past.
I present you today with photos of my new digs in Sunset Heights. It came furnished, which has its pros and cons.
My kitchen. It overlooks the rooftop terrace. Which overlooks the landlords' garden.
My apartment kitchen, El Paso, Texas. September 2016.
My apartment kitchen, El Paso, Texas. September 2016.
My bedroom, office, and living room.
My living space in my apartment, El Paso, Texas. September 2016.
Look, a real bed. The first since I left Alamogordo. Not that I'm complaining about my chic red friend from Alamogordo and Louisiana:
My chic red bed.
In my "living room," see that folding table in the lower left-hand corner? I bought that from my friend "Suzanne" (who I visited in D.C. last year) at her moving sale, years ago, for one dollar, and it's traveled with me in the US ever since. Perfect height, perfect length and width, so light and yet sturdy, and it fits snug as a sweet puppy in the ledge beneath my car's rear window. It is my office.
View from rooftop terrace outside my apartment, El Paso, Texas. September 2016.
My rear view from the rooftop terrace that I access from what used to be the kitchen back in the day, but which is now the bathroom. You can see UTEP in between a neighbor's roof and a mountain.
View from rooftop terrace outside my apartment, El Paso, Texas. September 2016.
Here's a slip of a Juarez view - in the far background - from the side of my apartment, also on the rooftop terrace.
View from rooftop terrace outside my apartment, El Paso, Texas. August 2016.
An evening view from the terrace. Most afternoons and evenings, the clouds congregate over by the mountain, unseen in this photo, but behind the foliage that's on the upper right quadrant of the picture.
The wind - the opinionated, bossy, busybody El Paso wind - likes to swoosh around the exterior corners of my apartment and complain and sing at I don't know what.
Sunset view from new home, El Paso, Texas. August 2016.
August 2016.
El Paso marks my 5th year of annual moves.
In Caucasus Georgia, my first nomadic year, my homes were assigned to me, the first in New Rustavi and the second in Old Rustavi.
In Alamogordo, New Mexico, my second nomadic year, I learned that renters:
Are second-class citizens; and
With unusual financial lives cause some confusion for potential landlords.
Nevertheless, I found a terrific apartment quickly, with story here and here. And here was my temporary home til I could move into the apartment.
In Lafayette, Louisiana, I based myself in a hotel when I arrived. Miraculously, I found a teeny place in a dream location about two days after I landed, and was able to move in about two days after that. Here and here are about my hunt. And here is my moving day, heheheh.
In my year for Opelousas, Louisiana, I based myself in an airbnb - well, two airbnbs - while searching for my new digs. The fact that I arrived back in Louisiana just before Mardi Gras was not the smartest decision, but it all worked out fine. My Opelousas apartment turned out to be the perfect place for me. Friendly neighbors, walking distance to a grocery store, super close to I-49 to zip down to Lafayette, and a different view of South Louisiana than I had in Lafayette, which is exactly what I'd sought.
I've learned that when I get stressed out over finding a place, it's of my own making, and is not only unnecessary, but unhelpful.
Well, I should say that I've learned it even better after my El Paso hunting experience.
The biggest challenge, I've discovered, is finding the right information source for apartment hunting. Yes, most cities have a rent.dot.com or some such, but these generally focus on the larger complexes. Craigslist is useful, and that's how I found my Opelousas apartment.
In El Paso, it was Hotpads that led me to my chosen place.
But before I found it, I located a Plan B apartment - a teeny studio on Mesa on the west side that would have worked just fine for a month or two, if necessary.
Where I ended up, oh my, exceeded my dreams! I am within walking distance of both the university and downtown El Paso. I am just a few blocks from I-10. The range of architecture here is like a bag of Halloween candy - so many delectables to look at and sigh over.
My apartment is furnished, which means sleeping on an actual bed this year - the first time in two years! Although I cherished my red couch-bed, it's a luxury to have a real bed. The utilities are included, as well, which saves on start-finish hassles and deposits and bill-paying.
My cherished red chairbed from Alamogordo, Lafayette, and Opelousas.
Ouch, though. Frankly, the rent is a real stretch for me. And it's a tiny place with barely enough room for me to set up my work space. But location, location, location.
I'm in the Sunset Heights neighborhood, one of the several historic districts in El Paso. My apartment is within a large, historic home. I can see the roofs of UTEP from my rooftop terrace. (Oh, I didn't mention that yet?)
Mmmmm, back in the Southwest. The air is different, the light is special, the clouds are special, and the flashy, splashy colors of the flowers delight the eyes.
To have a base until I found a one-year home, I booked some time in an airbnb in El Paso. It was on the west side of the city.
I've had mostly very good luck with my airbnb choices. In this case, I pretty much had the large house to myself, with an expansive bedroom and private adjoined bath. An inviting, shaded terrace in the back. When I walked out to the terrace the first time, I just smiled and smiled. I was in my new home city.
Terrace at my airbnb home in El Paso. August 2016.
Moving house, near Breaux Bridge, Louisiana. December 2011.
Yesterday was the third day over the course of the last two weeks that
I drove up and down the streets of Opelousas looking for a black and red For Rent sign at the moment a property owner stuck it on the post, whereupon I was ready to leap out of my car, bound up to
my future landlady, and make an arrangement on the spot.
Said house would be a charming little cottage or bungalow -
of which there is an abundance in
Opelousa’s city center - shaded by bowed, leafy trees with a painted, plank-board
porch and tall, twin front windows.
Yet again, disappointment.
My head’s been all over the map about my housing situation. Buy (because it may be more cost-effective than renting!). Rent.
Go to a town I’m not all that interested in, solely because of the housing costs. Stay in Lafayette, solely because
of housing availability. Hike my
$500-budget up into the $600-dollar range as my new affordable and know that in
Lafayette, even this gets you not much. Maybe I just need to say yes to 450
square feet and a mini fridge and smile about it.
It’s a very interesting mind-game that desperation plays on you.More on this in another post.
In an internal Come to Jesus meeting, in which the questions about
location versus charm versus price versus buy/rent floated about like words in
that magic 8 ball, the desire for a location in Opelousas came out on top. The
reality was that to get into Opelousas in the near future, I’m going to have to
go for city limits + affordable, and forego ambiance.
There’s an apartment complex in Opelousas that may suit my newer, reality-based expectations, so getting
a look inside will be my next course of action. In my current reality, I’m
looking for function and not style.
Returning to South Louisiana for Year Two just two weeks before Mardi Gras may not have been the best idea. Based on my relocation experiences in the past - the speed at which I found wonderful permanent shelter, to be specific - it seemed rational to expect I'd be ensconsed somewhere cozy by the holiday.
But:
The prices for temporary lodging right before a major holiday in these parts go way over my budget.
I've learned that the demand for rental property in the Lafayette catchment area exceeds supply, especially at my price range.
Rental property is generally high around here, so there are significant compromises on condition, size, view, and ambiance
Based on the above realities, anxiety and discomfort have kicked in. There is a desire to stop this discomfort that has no time-certain end. This tempts me to retreat into what's comfortable, like staying in Lafayette in Year Two simply because it's a known entity, or snagging any place that is minimally acceptable solely to end the home hunt.
However, when I pause for a few minutes and take a breath, really, I've got to appreciate that I have exceptional freedom.
For example, I don't even have to stay in South Louisiana! I could go anywhere!
The Mardi Gras holiday is only a few days - once I get past that economic hurdle, then prices settle down again and I have way more breathing space to find the right home. And if need be, I can visit another region during Mardi Gras. A sunny beach, maybe.
I could buy instead of rent, taking me into an entirely new adventure.
I can open myself up to a much broader range of South Louisiana location possibilities.
Here's what a couple of folks say about living with uncertainty:
“Settling in” is a euphemism for spending a lot of money the
first few days of a move-in. What I bought the first two days:
Non-perishables
Toaster
($12)
Full-length
mirror ($6)
Step
stool that will serve as step stool, foot rest, and side table for the
veranda outside ($9)
AA
battery replenishment
Swiffer
system – all my floors are vinyl ($20) + pad/soap refills
Colander
($2)
Dishwasher
detergent ($4)
Small
plates in the infant section – (five for $4)
Small
glasses with lids in the infant section – (five for $3)
62-oz
size plastic food storage ware that I use for large bowls, such as for
salads
Roaster
pan for doing up my chickens and occasional turkey ($8)
Food
Turkey on
sale @ .69 per pound … Thanksgiving, you know
Two
roaster chickens
Large
bags of frozen brussel sprouts, cauliflower, and baby peas
Large
bag of frozen “tropical” fruit mix
Plain,
nonfat yogurt
Pumpernickel
bread
Onions
Sweet
potatoes
Bag of
frozen sweet potato patties
Spinach
Lettuce
Green
peppers
Cucumbers
Coffee
Eggs
Pam
spray
Cooking
oil
Sugar-free
blackberry jam
Ouch, my wallet hurts!
What hasn’t translated to Louisiana from New Mexico
My
shower/tub already has a shower curtain and rod, so there’s no need for
the tension rod and curtain I bought in New Mexico, which I used to partition
off my den from the living room.
I’m
going to try and use my vacuum sweeper, bought in New Mexico, in my new place instead of
buying a broom and dustpan. We’ll see.
What I’ve been able to re-use from New Mexico or prior purchases
Coffee
maker
Flatware
Work
table
Desk
lamp
Cutting
board
Spices
Measuring
cups and spoons
Shelf
stereo
Plastic
4-drawer, rolling storage cabinet
Skillet,
some pots, baking sheet, and a small square cooking pan
Large
stainless bowl
Vacuum
sweeper (hopefully)
Twin-size
sheets, pillowcases
Blankets
Pillows
As in New Mexico,
I use my storage bins as side tables.
Still to get
Second-hand
table for dining and to do artwork
Second-hand
chairs for dining and guests
Second-hand
office chair for working
I’ll get an air bed for visitors, but I won’t get one (or
two) til right before they arrive.
I’ll work up my total relocation expenses in the near
future.
I left the hotel at a little past noon and I was completely
moved in at 1:22.
I had to think a little to decide how to get the red
chair/bed up the steps to my apartment. It’s not that the piece is heavy, it’s
that it is very awkward, with its head and foot flopping out at random. What
did the trick was to kind of roll it up the steps.
After I finished schlepping everything inside, the
landlord’s main guy came by to do some work.
He did some stuff, then said: “I’ll be back tomorrow to finish. You’re moving in tomorrow, right?”
Here was my apartment hunt last year in Alamogordo.
My criteria for a place in Lafayette
Affordability --> As close to $500 or below as I could get
Location --> Proximity to music and event venues, with downtown being the top of the
wish list
The hunt
Prices. I
knew before coming to Lafayette that the average
rents here are higher than in Alamogordo.
Indeed, it seems there is an abundance of apartments for $700, with precious
few at the $500 mark. When I arrived in Lafayette, I checked out a couple of
the lower-priced possibilities I’d identified a week before I left Missouri,
only to discover that the owners had just raised the rents by more than $150
due to a higher demand! These facilities were now way out of my price range.
There was a new development close to downtown with
controlled rents designed for lower income folks, i.e. me. Even at that, the
rent for the one bedroom place was a real stretch. But this didn’t matter
because they were full up. Another development, also (theoretically)
“affordable housing,” was not only fully occupied, its rent was completely out
of my league.
Off to find a QuikQuarter, a classifieds publication that
includes rental ads. I was more likely to find some places in my price range here. I
did, but phone calls to the lessors revealed they’d already been snapped up.
Then I googled on “property managers” for Lafayette and got a few hits. One company had
a number of rentals available, but when I filtered the results for $600 or
less, only two properties remained. Eek!
Location. Neither had much curb appeal, but it was dumb luck that only
that morning, when I’d gone searching for those pre-researched apartments (and
subsequently learned they’d raised the rents), I had taken a wrong turn, and
driven past a lovely, lovely area with a large park. So it was that I saw that
both of these unlovely apartment buildings were in that area.
I favored one of the buildings for its less-unlovely looks
and its cheaper rent over the other, and arranged to meet a property manager
rep this afternoon:
Petite
place, about half the size of my apartment in Alamogordo, but $50 more rent.
Some
cosmetic and other issues, all fixable.
Pretty
neighborhood.
Near
main street arteries, but the traffic is not visible and, although
audible, not very loud.
With
walking distance of some very cool places.
It wasn’t going to get any better than this!
Completed the paperwork with the property management folks
and settled down to wait for the green light re: approval.
