Sunday, September 23, 2012

Being Evicted

..which is a little different than "Being Peace" ha ha. The owner of this house says I broke our rental agreement by allowing my 34 yr old son to visit "for more than one week in a four month period." This was the stated stipulation on the magical 2nd rental agreement that was attached to the summons. Who the heck would agree to that? I sure didn't, and that's why my signature isn't on it.

My son Julian is a master trainer at a local gym, here he is at the park.
and at the beach..

gee, I wonder what it is about him that she doesn't like? Hmm..

Well, things had already gone to hell in a hand basket via her refusal to fix the heater and electrical outlets, and I wasn't happy when I discovered that she had neglected to inform me that these are asbestos walls with lead paint in here, either. (I found out when the cable guy told me) What a winning combination, asbestos and electrical failures. Yikes. I hope to god I can get out of here before this house blows and the neighborhood becomes a hazmat zone.

Now a rabid and probably armed process server has been terrorizing the house for the last three days.  He left a summons tacked to the front door jam Thursday morning, after a lengthy round of shouting and banging. ( I don't open the door to strangers who are acting out of control) Each day these visits get progressively louder and more threatening.

On his Saturday morning visit, he let himself into the house and walked into the living room, shouting "hello, hello, anyone in here'? in between entering the back yard to go into the garage and circle the house, shouting the whole way. His behavior was so loud and aggressive that one of my neighbors came outside and stood on his lawn watching, with a concerned look on his face.  I had just gotten out of the shower and locked my bedroom door when I heard this man in the living room walking across the floor shouting. He came into the house three times while I stood behind that locked door wondering what to do. I didn't call the police after he left and probably should have. But who would care that this process server stormed into my house?  

Ya, sure it's illegal, but he's a process server working for a Land Lord, while I on the other hand, am the renter whose giving the Land Lord a problem.  I'm fairly certain a complaint re home invasion would be completely disregarded. I don't have those rights, apparently because it's not really my home. 

Drama tires me out. I'll have to file a response to the landlords eviction notice by Tuesday.  Thank God it's Humboldt County, the line at the courthouse won't be long. I'm not looking forward to it, but I've never been to the Humboldt county courthouse so maybe it'll be interesting. 

Maybe someday we will only have two Socioeconomic groups, composed of those who own land and those who do not. To be "a renter" in America is to belong to a subclass of people who are generally thought of as underachievers and potential troublemakers. In America, the  term "renter" is closely related to the terms "riffraff " and "squatter".

The Land Lords don't mind taking our hourly-wage money to pay for their property and retirement investments, but they want to make sure we know our place, on a strata somewhere beneath them.  As a matter of fact, many land lords do not feel that their "tenants" (renters/rifraff/current squatters) deserve to enjoy the same quality of life that they themselves enjoy. For example, my bathtub.Think that Mrs. Land Lord has a bathtub like this at HER house?

This tub is unusable for therapeutic baths. Between the peeling paint and the rust, a therapeutic soak is not even remotely possible. There's a horrible shower contraption that circles it, the faucet leaks constantly, and the cold water has to be turned on & off by reaching between the tub and wall to turn the spigot there. We wear shower flip flops when we take a shower, like we're in jail. Awful.

My fourth visit from Mr. Banger-shouter came a few minutes ago.  His volume was substantially reduced today and didn't last as long so that was nice. I got his truck license plate on video this time.

Monday 24th: I went over to the Northern California legal aid to pick up a response packet. They have one attorney on staff there, and she is on vacation. So I will have to file this response myself in the meantime. I don't believe that my rights will be upheld in this situation, but I'll go through the process anyway and figure it will be an educational experience. I believe this is a case of wrongful eviction but I also think that land lords are well supported by the judicial system, and I know that just because the law states such & such, doesn't necessarily mean anything. Unless you have an attorney to enforce your legal rights, might as well not bother quoting the law.

 I've never been evicted and I have to say, it's an unpleasant state of affairs.  Well, I guess it can be added to the three identities, multiple social security numbers, bankruptcy's, credit cards, and mortgages that are on my credit report. what the heck. I've never been arrested for anything, but make no mistake, I might as well be a criminal.

Being poor these days is sort of the same thing, not like a white collar criminal, mind you; they're above the rest of us in their own club, with their own rules and laws, and land. Poor and landless is unacceptable and deserving of contempt, automatically a criminal of some type. The days are gone in which a person could be poor with dignity. You are your financial assets. Which seems weirdly fitting, since corporations are now people.

Now I understand why all these fools in the world are so ruthless they'd do anything to add to their cash pile. Cash is king in this world, without it, no rights of any kind are upheld. What a shame. We are a land of no honor. LandLords, and the Landless; the connected, and the disconnected. No one really cares, and it's going to get worse.

I read lots of the conspiracy theories online and many people think that a man-made virus will be released soon in order to reduce the population. (fema coffins etc) My personal theory is that the very poor will go first. No one will care about them dropping dead, in fact it would make a lot of people more comfortable. Next, medically indigent seniors, the meth-addicted, and the disabled on government programs. Don't believe you'll ever see me lining up for a government surplus box, no thanks.

If I was a drug addict or mentally ill, or had small children, I would automatically qualify for free monthly income from the government and many other services. But a woman with breast cancer automatically qualifies for nothing. Except the free government slice-n-dice, slash, radiate and burn program. All those pink ribbons make me feel disgusted when I see them. What an insult. All that pablum horseshit about how they're supporting women with breast cancer. what a crock.

I'll be ok, because my son is here to help me move. With one good arm to use and a limited supply of energy (my body is already working hard) I couldn't even get my stuff moved into storage without help. Even though I'm over 50 now, I've always been strong and self-sufficient, so this state of affairs is a much different experience. I can't say I'm warming up to it.

My latest psychic reading (a lady on Etsy, she's great) says that I'm at the tail end of this sojourn through hell, and that my finances will dramatically change soon, in such a way as to completely alter my entire physical world. Hopefully that might mean my crook in-laws will get busted soon and Brad's retirement account will fall out with my name on it, along with a few houses and the yahoo stock. One can hope, don't need a license for that. Hey miracles happen every day.

If that be the case, may I never forget what it was like to be on the bottom rung. And may I totally resist the urge to take a nice photo with my middle finger extended and send it to the entire maternal side of my extended family and a few others. heh heh.

Some people wonder if I'm embarrassed to put all this personal information online, or they feel I should be. But that's one of the perks about having a potentially lethal illness, no, I don't care if I embarrass myself or look foolish. All those things pass away. It's sort of freeing when you realize that.

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