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exnzpat buys a rental!

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  • #76
    This is an american horror story so I'm waiting for the extra gorgeous hotty nympho neighbour who comes along to tempt expat into letting her help paint one of the rooms in a skimpy bikini because its hot over there.

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    • #77
      Originally posted by tpr2 View Post
      This is an american horror story so I'm waiting for the extra gorgeous hotty nympho neighbour who comes along to tempt expat into letting her help paint one of the rooms in a skimpy bikini because its hot over there.
      Two would be better!!!
      The mission of any business enterprise should include the aim to develop economic conditions rather than simply react to them.

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      • #78
        Haha, this story is a great read, yeah I was thinking about how you wrote you put the box downstairs.

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        • #79
          Originally posted by Austrokiwi View Post
          Two would be better!!!
          Come on guys, this is america .... Bring on a full cheerleading squad doing thier bit for the community.

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          • #80
            Originally posted by CJ View Post
            Come on guys, this is america .... Bring on a full cheerleading squad doing thier bit for the community.
            You lot have been eating red meat again haven't you?
            Jo Birch
            Looking for someone to manage your next project or event? Then call now!
            +61 450 148 678

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            • #81
              Originally posted by tpr2 View Post
              This is an american horror story so I'm waiting for the extra gorgeous hotty nympho neighbour who comes along to tempt expat into letting her help paint one of the rooms in a skimpy bikini because its hot over there.
              Hahaha...lololo
              The best post so far TPR I like it.

              But honestly Expat on a more serious note.
              You need to be careful that you draw a firm line between fact and fiction.

              That is how David Bain started out, dont let your family stay in that house, anyway I have to go, I love KFC and I could murder a family pack.

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              • #82
                I can see it now, the red rose petals floating down as she takes a bath to help get the paint off her where expat has not been concentrating and dropped it all over her.

                Her twin sister (also a nympho neighbor with a fetish for kiwi property investors) popping over to see if her sis is ok in that big scary house.

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                • #83
                  Day 9

                  I stayed away from the room today.

                  I spent most of the day crawling about the floors painting the baseboards and the rest of the ceilings in the house. There was a little basic maintenance to do on the outside of the house. A little touch-up paint on the window sills, a downspout needed to be replaced and the gutters needed cleaning. It was also a good time to check the tiles on the roof.

                  You may think that this is all overkill for a simple rental property. But, basic maintenance is an investment for the long term care of the home. If it wasn’t for this horrible recession then I’d have this place on the market on the day I finish the redo (which can’t come quick enough). And, so here is the problem: I could resell this place today for probably $10,000 more than I paid for it – just with the work I have already done. It would only be a profit of maybe two or three thousand dollars at this point and could take months to sell. But, if I hold the house for just five to seven years as a rental I could easily sell it for more than $120,000 to $140,000 than I paid for it. The money to hold this thing was just too good to let it go over a haunting. I was committed. Anyway, by the end of the week I’d be out of here and it would be my renters’ problem, not mine!

                  Nice thought Austrokiwi, it would be nice to charge my current residents rent. But, who is the guest? They were, after all, the original owners. Perhaps the renter is me – the only problem though; I haven’t paid yet. And if I am to pay, how shall I pay – and exactly what expiation will be demanded?

                  State law governs rents and unfortunately, for landlords in this State, even if a tenant skips out you are not allowed to keep their deposit. So the trick will be renting the house to someone with a poor credit rating; this should assure that I’m not sued for the return of their deposit. Cold, I know. But, at the end of the day, business is still business! The last thing I needed for the next five or six years are revolving-door tenants claiming that this haunting was some kind of infestation!

                  And again, I had to ask myself – is this a real haunting or is it just me? I would need to check for toxic mold to be sure because, this morning, I had jumped with surprise when I walked into the kitchen, “where the hell had these new appliances come from?” The steady drum beat of my writing marks the passage of time and therefore I’ve used it to see the path I’ve taken – and after my shock over the box -- my memory losses, I fear are becoming more and more pronounced.

                  I went to my computer and checked with PropertyTalk.com to see – and there – Yes – on Day 8 – yesterday for Christ Sake, they (the new appliances) had been installed. Why could I not remember that? Is my memory is playing tricks on me or is my memory loss, apparitions, screams etc. just symptoms of toxic mold? I’m a very practical person and I demand a practical answer – and this could be it.

                  They caught the man seven months after his crime. They extradited him from Florida back to this State. It was the late 1970’s and the liberalization of the legal system had already set in but because of the selfish and horrific nature of his crime the State sought the Death Penalty regardless. The State Prosecutor was confident of conviction but not confident that the court would award the maximum penalty. So in an unusual showmanship-like style he convinced the judge to allow the court to be brought to the house so the jury could see firsthand the innocuous and commonality of the home and contrast that against the hideous brutality of an abusive and murderous husband. It was a good idea except for the incident -- one of the bailiffs escorting the defendant screwed up – and screwed up big, real big. The jury lined the hallway, the judge and the court recorder in the second bedroom. As the defendant was escorted in he saw his chance. Just as they moved from the living room into the hallway he made his move.

                  In the United States a defendant is not a prisoner; rather he is a defendant until found guilty. So therefore in front of a jury manacling a defendant is a subtle signal that the defendant may actually be guilty and so, in fact, the defendant’s hands and feet remain free while in view of his or her peers, i.e. the jury. And while this is all good and well in a protected and defended court room surrounded by big, heavy and well armed men, it is a whole other thing to be out in the open in the real world. And so it was, as the defendant was led into the hallway, and because of the confines of the small space was pressed close against his two large escorting bailiffs -- he reached for the poorly secured his weapon of the bailiff on the left. Before anyone could stop him the deafening roar of a thirty eight special exploded into the brain of the defendant, and right before the horrified eyes of the judge and jury the defendant crumpled into a heap at the entrance of the hallway. But what they didn’t see was the black-angular and shallow soul of a monster creep up the wall and cower in the ceiling above. How could I know this last part?

                  I was lucky the roof was in good shape (it probably had another five or six years left). And because the house was only one story and the yard flat I had little difficulty cleaning the gutters. I actually did need a new downspout and Lincoln and I took a much needed break from the house. After picking up what I needed from the hardware store we stopped by a local park and for about an hour I let Lincoln run about off the leash doing what dogs do best – sniff, poop and pee.

                  When we got home I fixed diner for us both and called Mrs. Exnzpat and the kids. This made me feel quite a bit better. I still have not broached the ghostly situation with Mrs. Exnzpat. I’m actually not sure how to do it. She too is a very practical person and unless she experienced it for herself then I doubt she would believe a word it. Well, she and the kids would be here Saturday night – so we shall see shan’t we.

                  I spent the evening relaxing at the computer, doing a research on toxic mold, Lincoln at my feet.
                  Last edited by exnzpat; 25-06-2009, 10:08 AM.
                  Erewhon is still erehwon, I don’t see it changing anytime soon.

                  http://exnzpat.blogspot.com/

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                  • #84
                    Dont stop Terry, Keep going

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                    • #85
                      Only 5 days to go.
                      "There's one way to find out if a man is honest-ask him. If he says 'yes,' you know he is a crook." Groucho Marx

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                      • #86
                        On Paying Ghosts rent.

                        I believe once you've given up( or been forceably removed from) your corporal body all rights of ownership are gone so a ghost cannot expect or receive rent. Frankly to remain in the house after departing is "not cricket". Your are the legal owner of the property so you have either a home invasion or illegal squatters.................problem is making the proper authorities understand that they must support you and enforce the laws of the land by removing your unwelcome and transparent guests. How do you handcuff a ghost?
                        The mission of any business enterprise should include the aim to develop economic conditions rather than simply react to them.

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                        • #87
                          Day 10

                          This morning I decided that I really need to check the back bedroom for toxic mold. Last night I woke with more than just a headache. Sometime around 3:30am I woke to Lincolns' barking. I hushed him, and again heard the distinct sound of someone crying. This time, instead of investigating I just forced myself back to sleep. When I woke it was still dark. Amazingly, my headache was gone. I practically danced out of bed. I walked into the kitchen, but stopped up short. There, standing by the sink, was woman; dirty blond hair hanging down covering her face. She was wearing a non-descript white blouse and shorts. Her feet were bare and dirty. I stood in the doorway looking at her. She slowly lifted her head and looked up at me. She had been crying, her eyes were dark, sunken and rimmed with smeared mascara. Tears stained her grubby face and an ugly purple bruise stained her neck, and on right check a painful looking red welt was smarting.

                          "Please don't hit me again," she whispered.

                          Instantly I woke. I staggered, disorientated at first – then I realized that I was not in bed. I was standing exactly where I been in the dream -- and it had been a dream; I think?

                          I was standing in the doorway of my newly painted kitchen. My headache returned with a vengeance -- so painful it was -- I actually bent over clasping my head. Slowly the pain subsided and I looked about for the woman. It had just been a dream. It was dawn and the pale light of it filtered into the room. There was no woman (sorry Terry). I looked about for Lincoln. He was curled up next to the camp bed snoring softly. I wondered how long I been standing there – there was a definite chill across my bare shoulders. With nothing else to do I decided to make coffee.

                          After breakfast I went on the search for toxic mold. My internet research told me to start by looking for leaks. This was an easy one -- I already knew that house had no leaks, and the only fluid that ever been behind any wall in this house was blood. And I knew exactly where to look.

                          I stood for a long time in the hallway, box-cutter and wallboard saw in hand before making the short way down the hallway to the room. Holding a box-cutter made me think of an actual box but I don’t know why. Funny the things that just jump into your head.

                          I cut a small square hole with the knife adjacent to the stud and pushing the insulation back to make a little room for the wallboard saw. I stopped. Was this the right wall? Yes. I could feel it was right. Like a heart beating, I could feel it…

                          About an hour after I started the guy from the carpet store showed up to measure. The job was simple, the hallway, the two small bedrooms and the living room. I left him to his measurements and went back into the back bedroom.

                          He came into the room just in time to help me tear the last piece of drywall from the wall. He asked me why I had torn it down. I lied, telling him that it had been badly damaged by the last renters. He bought it, and measured the room. The last thing I needed was a contractor thinking that the home was infested with toxic mold – a great excuse to crank up the price or worse sue me.

                          “Man, its cold in this room” he said standing and retracting his measuring tape. He shivered and told me that he could have a crew around in the morning. “Good enough,” I said and wrote a check for the deposit. I spent the rest of the morning dragging the old drywall and insulation out to the dumpster. There was no toxic mold. According to pictures that I found on the internet there should be a large black mass of obvious moldy growth. There had been nothing other than a black scabby film lining some of the stud and the backing board. I wondered if it was dried blood – but truthfully -- it could have been anything – though it definitely was not mold.

                          With my head beating from the constant throb of my ever present headache I drove over to the hardware store and purchased four sheets of new drywall, some tape and mud. My mornings work wasn’t wasted time; I had, at least, eliminated one possible source of my torment. Perhaps, if I am to be completely honest with myself I just needed to admit that the house is actually haunted and be done with it. But, somehow I just couldn’t do it. Then I realized I had forgotten to buy the replacement insulation for the wall. And somehow through the fog of pain in my head, in what was becoming my constant companion, I suddenly realized that the insulation would be here on Saturday and that everything was going to be fine.

                          I spent the better part of the afternoon drilling wood screws into the sub-floor. I had good reason for this. The sub-floors of many older homes are nailed down. Over time the nails loosen up and the floor squeaks. I have become quite obsessive about sub-floors over the years because, a few years ago, in my own home I spent $10,000 to have a beautiful hardwood floor laid and guess what; nobody thought to silence the sub-floor beneath. The only way out of this dilemma is to rip-up my very expensive floor and start again! The last thing I needed was the carpet layers working on an unprepared floor – because I can assure you, if you don’t do this kind of prep-work yourself, they certainly won’t!

                          I spent the rest of the day outside doing some minor gardening work, a little cleaning and some more touch-up paint work. It seems, of late, that my headache remains whether I’m inside the house or not. I probably should see a doctor. But,

                          …the end is near – I can feel it!
                          Erewhon is still erehwon, I don’t see it changing anytime soon.

                          http://exnzpat.blogspot.com/

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                          • #88
                            There is less fantasy in these posts than when expat is trying to be serious

                            So I guess this novel shouldnt surprise us

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                            • #89
                              I'm sure Pammy Andersen's twin sister lives around there somewhere.

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                              • #90
                                Originally posted by tpr2 View Post
                                I'm sure Pammy Andersen's twin sister lives around there somewhere.
                                What did I say about eating red meat?
                                Jo Birch
                                Looking for someone to manage your next project or event? Then call now!
                                +61 450 148 678

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