There are plenty of left behinds at one of Alan’s rental properties, and, as a favor, I am working overtime to get things cleaned up.

The last tenants, Section 8, left two weeks after they were supposed too, left food in the frig, a back yard full of refuse, stained carpet, damaged doors, leaky faucets, missing window screens and the smell of dereliction.

In the back yard are stuffed animals, clothes hangers, birthday cards, vacuum hoses, unused cleaning rags, baseballs, cardboard boxes and kitty litter. When tenants leave, they leave behind their don’t wants and seldom leave a place as it was when they moved in.

Utility bills pile up in the mailbox like unwanted holiday visitors.

Jackson Compaction has delivered a dumpster and into the dumpster has gone all the discards we can pack. Their motto is ” You Trash It; We Smash It. ”

Robert and I load the trash carefully, to save space, fill the container methodically, then lay carpet over the top to keep stuff from crawling back out.

There is no recourse. Ex-tenants, like ex husbands or wives, have already gone their way, found another nest to dirty, and don’t have money or resources to settle. Getting a hundred will cost two hundred.

There is painting to do, floors to be replaced, new kitchen cabinets to hang. When all is done, there will be another renter. My brother Alan says Section 8 will never happen again.

” That, ” he says, ” You can take to the bank. ”

My brother doesn’t joke about money.

 

 

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