Chapter 1 – LA Goes To Meet The Landlord
Hi, I’m LA. I am a 49 year old burnt out woman who wouldn’t attract a decent man if my life depended on it. Divorced after my ex had an affair with my sister, a birth vessel to my three lost children to “him” with his money, and what money I did have I blew on a pipe dream – an auto repair company in a small town, where the recession of ’07 killed it and all my retirement fund. So, one year later, after moving to another small town and drinking too much, although finding a best friend there while I lived there, I moved in with my sister back near home. My kids asked me to come back. Never listen to them.
After 9 months I decided that this independent woman would move out to her own place. Four years in the country gave me an itch for remaining in that atmosphere.
“Available, bachelor apartment on farm land, internet included, and animal friendly”. Yeah! I thought. I found the perfect place. With two dogs, and my love for animals, and the country, and admittedly technology, what more could you ask for?
Thursday morning, July 21, 2011 I visited the “landlord” of this place. (He was more like a sub-landlord). I checked out the bachelor apartment and agreed to lease it immediately, or so to speak. Nicer yet was that I was paying first and last, but it was a month to month lease. Couldn’t be better.
This young man was somewhere else on that morning. It took me 45 minutes to get him to even write me out a lease. I was on social assistance at that time and needed proof I was moving out.
There he stood, piercing blue eyes, about six foot one inches tall, fit, in his late 20’s and could not focus on the fact I was the real deal. It was no wonder. The place looked like a shelter for the wanderers. I didn’t care. I wanted a place to live and I couldn’t afford much, nor somewhere that accepted my babies – my 13 year old Jack Russell and my 2 year old JackShit.
My sister’s boyfriend had driven me to this location. I had assured him it would be a ten minute deal. As aforementioned, it wasn’t. So here is why.
AM couldn’t focus. He was concerned about his dogs, then concerned about his goats that went loose, and then his chicken, and was more interested in making sure they were attended to then his new tenant.
It doesn’t end there.
At 20 minutes I asked him if I could just see the place. He sent me upstairs on my own and I checked it out and it seemed reasonable. At 30 minutes I asked him to find me paper and pen. He came out with paper and pencil. He began to write the lease agreement, then ran off because he saw his goat. So at 35 minutes I finished the wording of the agreement and at 40 minutes tried to find him to sign it so that my sister’s boyfriend wouldn’t become totally frustrated. At 45 minutes I got the pencil written agreement signed and left. August 1st was my move in date. But it wasn’t.
Thus begins a life I didn’t expect having, much like my previous lives. Lives? Yes lives. I have had many. Of any of them I love this one the most. Why? I’m not sure. I think this is where the beginning is of where I need to go. Here at the Monrad Mansion.