Monday, November 7, 2016

Surprise at Home

Since I'm moving (Sylvania to Columbus) one load at a time, I have to spend a certain amount of time in Sylvania packing up.  When I get a load of boxes packed, I get a U-Haul truck, load it up, drive to Columbus the next day, unload, return the truck to U-Haul, and drive back to Sylvania again.  The only reason this schedule is possible is because of Frank and John Fischer, both of whom do the lion's share of the actual heavy lifting.  Last time, that portion was most of the entire load, and they worked like government mules to get the truck unloaded.


Found on My Door at Misty Way in Columbus
During the time I'm in Sylvania, mail and other messages tend to pile up in Columbus. I found this little gem taped to my front door last Saturday.  Nice, huh?

Being a civic minded, helpful sort of person, I called Asend Recovery and learned that they were trying to contact the previous resident of my condo.  I explained that I'd just bought the place, and that while I lacked a forwarding address for the previous owner, I did have a telephone number.  Asend Recovery explained that they were in the same shape I was, knowledge-wise, and that the target of their investigation was proving to be somewhat uncooperative regarding voice mail messages and requests to call them back.  I'm somewhat sympathetic, but I'm of no practical help.

I called Deputy Bailiff J.D. Foster and left a message.  Ms. Foster returned my call, was very pleasant and thanked me for my help.  I went through my explanation again, and was reassured that I would no longer be bothered by their office, nor did I have to worry about bad people showing up at my door at odd hours of the morning due to the previous resident's shenanigans, whatever they might be.

Somehow, I don't think I've heard the last of this. 


2 comments:

  1. Yep, you're in for it... 3 months to get it cleared up???

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    Replies
    1. Frankly, the previous owner was a bit eccentric. I liked her, but she reminded me of the people I knew during my misspent youth. She (the previous owner) looks to be 30 - something, is probably pushing 40, and while she is kindhearted in many ways, she is also a professional party girl.

      For instance, New Year's Eve is amateur night. If you go out, be prepared to see some genius ralphing in the greenery next to the hotel lobby entrance, while his cross-eyed-drunk date tries to decide whether to pee behind the dumpster, or try to hold it until she gets up to the room. Given any eye contact at all, she'll ask you for advice.

      Bush league party animals believe in the two party system. A party on Friday night, a party on Saturday night. Then they make a big deal about their hangover on Sunday.

      The true professional goes out on the town Monday through Friday nights, skips Saturday because of the go-to-work crowds, Frat boys, and other mental midgets who wouldn't know top shelf whiskey, high quality beer or fine wine from the rocket fuel, weasel spit, and mislabeled Mad Dog they drink now. These people are a menace to civilization, but they often tip well. Sunday being a day of rest and all, well, there you have it.

      I'm hoping the whole thing is ancient history in three months, but we'll see.

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