Call me Leona

As in Leona Helsmley.   Because I've joined the ranks of Real Estate Mavens.  Just this morning, I added the third rental property to my portfolio.  It's been a very time-consuming endeavor, but since I have plenty of time, it's a good thing.  In addition, I've been working on renting The Good House.  I've had a couple great prospective tenants.  Very cute, professional young couples.  I've had a little trouble with the current princess tenant when it comes to trying to show/advertise it, and I hate conflict, but I'm on the verge of channeling Leona. A/K/A, the Queen of Mean.

I'll be so glad to get rid of The Princess.  Especially since my rent revenue will increase 75%.  Crazy, huh?  No more Friends and Family Discounts here.

So, on top of managing my new real estate empire, I'm sticking with Taekwondo (skipped today, though, after getting lost in the hilly woods of Shelby Forest yesterday - soooo sore.)  TKD has come in handy with Sally and Lucy.  I've been using the roundhouse kick to keep them from jumping up on me with their muddy paws.  I'm beginning to think Sally is the Spawn of Satan.  Hound of the Baskervilles.  Half pit bull.  The other night, I had a nightmare involving being chased by pit bulls.  She's vicious.  I need to up my homeowners coverage.

Well, better run.  I need to get the key at the new house - it's under the mat.

Later...

Comcast - My Undoing

Just shoot me.  I've lost my will to live.  Comcast has sucked it from the marrow of my bones.

I've spent the last hour and a half trying to trouble-shoot the error messages I've been getting in my email account.  I've desperately avoided calling the Anti-Chrast.  But my will is broken.

The next time I go to kick-boxing class, I'm going to tape the logo of the Evil One to my bag.  I think I'll get a better workout that way.

Sooo, they've brought me to my knees.  The fix I received, after a 93 minute investment of time two days ago, has expired.  My will is broken.  As soon as I finish up here, I'm going to call.

Only because:

A) I'm trying to send Kiddo a spreadsheet with every single piece of data he could possibly need for his trip to Dubai which starts tomorrow (including emergency contact information, the phone number and address of the American Hospital, credit card international collect phone numbers, and the phone number and address of the U.S. Embassy.  I just watched Argo - can you tell?)

B)  I'm trying to consummate a big (for me) real estate deal, and I have three unsent important documents in my outbox, and who knows how many important documents waiting in Comcast's version of the dead letter office.

With that, I'll sign off.  And while I'm on hold, I'll plan their demise.  Pray for me...

My Undoing

Comcast.  They are evil.  I'm going to start a jihad against them.  If my head doesn't explode first.

Aaugh!

Here's the path of destruction left in Sally's wake.  One picture is worth a thousand words...  And these thousand words include quite a few expletives...

Grey Skies

A view from my patio.  It's a perfect picture of my day.

 

I'm so ready for spring.

I want to spring my clock forward.

Watch my garden spring to life.

Spring this prison called winter.



Hi-Ya!

It's official.  I'm a martial artist!  I took my first class yesterday.  In Taekwondo.  Don't f--- with me.  Because I learned how to punch, kick, jab and block.  I'm fearless.  Except I'm afraid of the situps.  Give me a mugger anyday.  Just don't make me work on my core.

I think I benefitted from my endless hours of yoga.  And watching boxing.  And psychotherapy...

And reading Shades of Grey.  Because there's an element of submissiveness.  SOG glamorizes that.  I can't buy into it, but I guess I can accept the idea, if it makes me fearless, calm, and able to leap through the air like that cute girl in Crouching Tigers, Hidden Dragons.  Or is it Hidden Tigers, Crouching Dragons?  Crouching Dragons, Hidden Tigers?  Damn.  This is worse than Men are from Venus, Women are from Mars.   Or that stupid movie - Men are like Dogs, Women are like Cats.  Can that be right?  Surely not.  Someone should make a rule that movie titles can't be more than three words long.  Forget trying to come up with some unique title for a sequel.  Stick a roman numeral behind the original title. Godfather.  Godfather II.  Godfather III.  That's it. Think of how much money that would save.  I'm sure the marketing gurus charge out the ass to come up with something catchy.  When all we want to know is where it falls in the timeline. 

Ok.  I took a muddy hike at Shelby Forest this morning.  My hiking boots fell apart (it's been a long time since I've used them.)  So between Taekwondo and hiking, I'm pooped.  Sore.  I think I'll take a hot bath.  And hope Sally doesn't wake me up before 4 in the morning...

One man's trash...

...is another man's treasure.

I've been watching Antiques Roadshow lately.  That's a dangerous combination paired with my thrift shop addiction.  There's the most incredible thrift store about two miles from my house.  They do a huge volume, and the pricing is crazy.  They might have a box of tampons for $12.98, and a priceless Picasso for $1.50.  Ok, I'm exaggerating a little bit, but you get the idea.

So far, I haven't found any Picassos.  But yesterday, I decided to get a jump on the Presidents' Day half-price sale, so I went by.  And I found seven original oil paintings.  They didn't really appeal to me and I figured somebody's grandma had taken art classes at the senior center.  They were kinda primitive.  Landscapes, including four of brick houses.  They were relatively large - 16" x 20".  One was unsigned and the other six had large, very legible, bright red signatures bearing the name "H. Hubbard."  So I pulled out my handy-dandy smart phone, and googled away.  Turns out this guy has an extensive Wikipedea page.  And he was from Covington, Kentucky - my mother's home town.  Weird, huh?  He was something of a recluse.  He was called Kentucky's Thoreau.  Cool.

I did some research, and I saw some pretty impressive prices.  Up to $6,000 on one site.  And it was much smaller than mine.  Unfortunately, you have to subscribe to look up closed auction results on art gallery sites.  I found one, though, which specializes in a handful of artists, including Hubbard.  They buy his work, so all I need to do is email some photos and shazam, I'll collect my winnings!  How thrilling is that?

So I decided to buy all seven.  Unfortunately, one of them wasn't priced.  All the others were marked either $2.98 or $3.98.  The lady manning the register refused to sell me the unpriced painting.  A manager had to do the pricing, and there wasn't a manager on duty.  I talked her into holding it for me until today.  When I returned today, I asked five people if they'd seen it before it was unearthed.  It was marked $3.98.  Which means, after the 50% discount, I paid $1.99 for my treasure.  Wow.

I'm pretty excited.  Or, I should say, cautiously optomistic.  I'll keep you posted...