We knew the day was coming. We knew our perfect tenant, who paid her rent early, didn't mind hauling her laundry to a laundromat and left nearly every weekend to visit family (allowing us time release dance moves and stifled jumping), we knew this working professional who never had a complaint, would some day move up and out.
Out of our one bedroom, renovated, $675- all inclusive basement apartment and into a new place.
Well the day came and went.
One month went by and still I didn't repost the ad to find a new tenant. I didn't feel like answering the phone anytime someone wanted information about the apartment. I just wasn't up to using my super sense to weed out the unsuitable candidates over the phone, I didn't feel like setting up appointments for apartment viewings in order to have fifty percent not even show up.
As the financial crunch started I realized I needed to do my job, so I cleaned the apartment from top to bottom and then started the long process of finding someone who would want what we had to offer. Someone I believed could pay their rent every month, who would contentedly tolerate a family of six living above them, someone who could come and go on our property without giving me the creeps.
After about fifty email enquiries I responded to, and a few no shows, we showed the apartment three times.
One showing was on a warm, snow melty kind of day, I opened the door to the tiled entryway and looked down the stairs to see a decent puddle at the bottom, I was perplexed at first and then realized the outside wall had leaked into the entryway of the apartment. He didn't rent it. And we have a large job before us, starting today.
Finally, after three months of vacancy, a jovial man paid us first and last, says he will be with us for a year, and now calls our apartment home.