Welcome to Chez Cliff!

A glass of wine is a great cure for writer’s block.

In front of me: a four day break.  Make sure to eat lots of turkey, gravy and wine.  Enjoy this time with the family and your friends.

For easy entertainment, please take some time and watch this great video of Steve Jobs.  His message:  Stay Young, Stay Hungry.

Thanks to Steph over at Flip This Wholesaler for the link.

Finishing touches on the curb appeal.  What to do?

I’ve already established I do not possess a green thumb.  I have a black thumb, or the "thumb of death" if you will when it comes to plant life.  Photosynthesis stops in my presence for some unknown reason.

In front of the house: two large dead spots.  Completely barren, devoid of any life.  I thought, after a period of time, this area would eventually go green with life.  Au contraire.

Some kind of plant was required, hopefully something easy to care for.  Rose bushes were suggested: whereas they require little water and look pretty.  For the ground, wood chips.  Purchasing 6 Rose Bushes ($60) with 4 bags of wood chips ($16) and some kind of claw tool ($12) for breaking up the ground.

For the other dead spots, grass seed was tried once again.  Last time I spent $10 on a bag of seed and got "a grass" to grow.  Yes, that is "a grass" as in one single blade of grass.  But I learned the seed purchased was quick, fast, "made by the lowest bidder" grass seed.  Each blade supposedly has an expiration date of minutes, rather than days or weeks.

This new grass seed grows more slowly but it lasts.  And it is growing.

My problem is that it grows in strips, kind of like looking at a green and black Charlie Brown shirt.

With that, the curb appeal has improved dramatically.  The biggest impact was the removal of the security door.

"Good evening sir, I’m not here to rob you!"

A knock at the door interrupted my Friday evening.  Tired, cranky, in need of some serious rest I begrudgingly opened the door to my inner sanctum.  Two large smiles greeted me, one from a woman and the other a man.

"Sir, you certainly don’t want inner city kids to wind up dead or on the streets as prostitutes, do you?"

Their modus operandi was nothing new.  Guilt victims into buying magazine subscriptions.  In return, the sellers get points.  Their target, some astronomical number, allows them to fly to Europe, buy flat screen televisions, or some other doodad.  Oh yeah and something about helping "inner city kids". 

At some point, I would like to believe the companies for these magazines donate money to causes but I’m skeptical.  Four times I have been exposed to this program.  To date: I have yet to receive a single magazine.

"I do appreciate your efforts however I’m just not interested."

My rejection caused a debate to break out on my front porch.  Rather than gracefully let the incident slide the two "point people" decided to goad me into a conflict.  I already donate to several causes: that was my shield.  My tired, cranky and now annoyed tongue became my sword.

"Sir, let me ask you a question.  If your friend fell into a pool and was drowning, would you help him?"

"Of course."

"And if he fell in again, would you help him?"

"No I would not."

"No?"

"I believe everyone needs a second chance.  If my friend required my help, I would definitely help him.  But if he was dumb enough to fall in again, then he needs to learn how to swim."

"I see I’m wasting my breath."  With that, they turned and left.  No good-byes.  No "thank you for your time".  Not even a "good night".

"Have a good evening!" I said.

‘Tis the season.

"This feels small" I said to myself, sitting on the front porch.

The first renovation, I remember well.  It was larger than life.  Scared out of my mind.  A large chunk of real estate balanced on my shoulders.  Would I succeed?  Would I be able to pull this off?  Many nights I remember waking up thinking "What in the world have I done!?!"

It was fun.  It was huge.

The second renovation is nearing completion.  It was fun, interesting, learned a lot.

But even with two properties, this somehow feels small to me.  The thrill of being scared, of being a failure, was gone.

Friend:  Hey Cliff, what did you do today?
Clifford:  Oh, you know.  I tied my shoes, rehabbed a house, paid the electric bill . . . you know, the usual stuff.

A thought ran through my head, "Am I only to rehab duplexes for the next five or ten years?"

The next day, the Real Estate Agent stopped by to view the progress.  A conversation was launched as far as possibilities for the next step.

Two ideas:

1. Rent both units, go homeless again, find another house to rehab.
2. Sell the units, walk away with nearly 30% ROI

I told the Real Estate Agent I wanted big project.  Something that would scare the H-E Double Hockey Sticks out of me.  Armed with a good contractor, one can do almost anything.  So what is bigger than just rehabbing houses?

Small apartment complexes?  Like 8 or 16 unit places?

This may require some thought.