Lhudly sing huzzah! Dave’s [Former] Used Car Lot, Marina, and Weed Arboretum [Under New Management] is getting a paint job!
Drove in from the office and what should I see out in front but a guy on a ladder with a paint brush. That’s right: he’s actually brushing the trim, not spraying it.
It’s a miracle.
The new proprietor’s choice of colors is not what I would’ve favored, had she asked: it’s your basic sh** brown. But beggars can’t be choosers. Who cares what color it is, anyway? It’s PAINT!
Yesterday she had a fly-by-nightish crew sandblasting the pool. This means that instead of doing the job right and replastering (which the pool really, really needed), she did a cosmetic job that will last a year or two, maybe. But: hey! Get rid of the mosquito pond and you get rid of any further complaints from moi.
All the workmen she’s had over there have possessed that fly-by-nightish look: nary a company sign magneted to the side of a truck, and most certainly no hint of a contractor’s license number. Suggests she’s doing the fix-up on the cheap, as fast as she can get it done.
And those two things (quickie pool job, sketchy workmen) suggest she intends to rent or sell. If she’ll just get someone in there who’s quiet, not a criminal, not a volcanic madman, and not given to living in squalor, we’ll be good.
Despite the obscenely low price (we learned the bottom-feeder bought it out of bankruptcy for $162,500—this is a neighborhood of formerly $300,000-plus houses), just cleaning that dump up has transformed this whole end of the street. Dave’s mess was dragging all the properties around him down. This afternoon I actually felt GOOD about driving up to the front of my house, for a change. Now we have only two seriously run-down houses in our little tract, and one of those is for sale.
No question we have some dark clouds scudding overhead, boding hard times. But maybe now and again we’ll see the occasional silver lining.