Renting Property

The first space we ever collected rent for was in our basement under the kitchen. The bed was in a loft tucked under the stairs. We got 50 bucks a month I think. About the third person to stay there, Susan (shoes on) Sugai, remained with us for several years. She cared for our son Nat on the morning Beth and I were at the hospital for the birth of our daughter Meredith. She came from her home in Alaska to the weddings of both kids. She was the first, but far from the last, to transition from tenant to friend.

Over the years I have evolved a rental process in which I ask prospective tenants to complete a questionnaire which includes the amount of rent they consider appropriate and affordable. I almost always get responses from several people before making a decision and very frequently the decisions are difficult because there is more than one attractive candidate. I am involved in this process now for the little cottage we own in the University District and I have three couples to choose between.

The first couple is married and have been traveling and living freely for several years and now are ready to settle down and stay in one place. This could be code for "have a baby", but that was not said. They said all the right words about the little house that I like a lot and seem both able and inclined to give it good care. The woman could be a TV newscaster. In addition to being pretty she was dressed in completely conventional wear. The husband however has shoulder length tresses falling from beneath his baseball cap (worn with the bill forward). The second couple was represented only by the female. She seemed like a total long shot when we spoke on the phone, but when I opened the door there she stood, bike helmet in hand. That was just the first small karmic element. She is a graduate of Nat's alma mater, Bastyr University school of alternative medicine where she majored in nutrition and psychology. She inspected the premises thoroughly, the most anyone ever has, corrected my misidentification of a certain herb, spoke of raising some vegetables and of her partner who teaches yoga and is currently on a two month long silent retreat in California. She can't speak to him for another week, but she stayed and talked to me for nearly an hour. Her middle name is Sage, a word that is pleasing as a noun and admirable as an adjectives. She emitted a sense of quiet competence and was just off beat enough (Sage) to be interesting. Her boyfriend bares the hopelessly Republican name Brent. Overcoming that to become a yoga teaching semi-monk is a sound accomplishment in my book. The third person, also a woman representing an absent man, appeared late in the day. She is a curve ball, a poseur. She is a complete fake out. As she stood before me in her flower child clothes with a dredlock hanging from each temple I knew I need not waste time with her. What was she thinking? Had she not seen that the rent would be around a thousand dollars a month. I let her look around on her own. Her inspection was cursory. Quite soon she returned to me and we began to talk. Mostly just to be polite I asked where she is in life, what she is up to. The answer stunned me. She's taking graduate classes in computer-linguistics. Immediately I knew she is not only smarter than I thought, but also smarter than I am. We talked on for some twenty minutes. Eventually I mentioned her appearance and how she had thrown me off. It's just the way she chooses to dress. No further reason. I love it. She has the most sound financial position of the three.

Advice is welcome.

A Visit To The Doctor

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“Your biopsy is negative for cancer”

“Huh?”

In a day surgery last week my wife gave up one of her four parathyroids. She didn’t need it. Yesterday while she was waiting to see the doctor for a follow up, a nurse passed by and cheerily said, “Negative for cancer.” What makes this a notable event was not the great relief she felt, but the surprise, or even shock that there was any suspicion of cancer. The misbehaving parathyroid was excised because it was causing her to lose bone density. No one had mentioned anything about cancer. We celebrated last night with a glass of sparkling apple juice. That seemed about right.

The parathyroidectomy got me thinking about losing body parts, how common it is, how many we seem able to do without. In a way you can think of life as a process of bodily erosion. It starts in infancy with your toe and finger nails. Before long somebody is cutting off your hair. (If you cut off half an inch of hair a month and live for 80 years you will have grown and cut off 12 times 40 inches or 40 feet.) Of course your skin has been shedding from the get go, long before you have to pay someone to take it off by the piece. You can lose a digit or even a larger extremity and still carry on. We’re told that one of the kidneys is superfluous. Take that. Teeth, tonsils, gall bladder, spleen, cellulose, appendix. Where does it stop? Apparently somewhere beyond breasts, lymph nodes, and uterus. I venture guys could get by after a nipplectomy. There are four parathyroids. You need only about half of one to survive.

Opps. This is now my second revision or third attempt to get it right. I'm stunned at how wrong is the third sentence of the previous paragraph. The removal process actually starts on about day three with your foreskin, or apparently in some places the labia major. I'm not quite sure about this. Also sometimes taken are the gonads and scrotum. In humans I think this is usually delayed a few years. If you happen to own a prostate gland, you can't be sure of taking it to the grave. Also on the list could be moles, warts, hemangiomas, and hair from legs, eye brows and backs. I now have no confidence at all that my list is complete, but perhaps I have now listed all the really interesting parts.

There are of course always gray areas. Partial part removal such as for biopsy would include just about everything I suppose so let's just say this is a list of whole part removal. There is also the odd situation in which one may lose the use of a part but not the part itself. The colostomy procedure comes to mind. I believe this is the end of this post.

Well there you have both an anecdote and a musing, but is it at all amusing?