lily's diary
Pumped Dry
by Lily
April 11
My cousin Nancy, from the ritzy side of the family, has been retired for many years and lives in a lovely home in Jordan Park. Recently she began to feel a squeeze in her quarterly returns and resorted to that time-honored backup used by women of gentility: she rented out a bedroom. The attractive young tenant had a sketchy credit record, typical of a young person doing an internship, but had parents who assured Nancy they would make good on her rent.
As soon as she moved in, she asked if her “apartment hunting” friend could stay with her until he found a place. Time passed and, gradually, as the two of them felt more at home, Nancy would find them in the kitchen in various degrees of undress and, worse, languishing in her part of the house. At first there were apologies and reasons given, such as needing privacy for a phone call. Soon, it was clear to Nancy that some of the time they simply didn’t know where they were, other than some drug-induced never-never land. The situation became untenable when they started “entertaining” at odd hours. Even allowing for popularity, the coming and going was clearly more than simple hospitality. Nancy began dreading both leaving her house and returning home, unsure as to what she would find.
One morning, after a sleepless night, Nancy blurted some kind of immediate eviction order. Poor Nancy. She was clueless that in renting out a room she had become a landlord, just like me, her dormouse cousin, and subject to all the restrictions of the San Francisco Rent Ordinance. As could be predicted, the kids went to the Rent Board and soon Nancy was informed of the 14 “just causes” for eviction. That day marked the first time I got some respect from that side of the family. Nancy invited me to lunch to see if her old cuz had enough good advice to avoid having to hire a lawyer. At last, I had arrived, familywise.
April 15
Isn’t it funny how you can hear endless stories about a local issue and then,
at some point, the problem reaches a critical mass—a tipping point—and explodes into the national news? Such is the case with bedbugs. I recall an SFAA meeting last year when a pest control specialist, or “baseboard jockey,” as he called himself, described the little critters as conniving and resilient. They are too small to see, traveling in pant cuffs, shoes and luggage, and nearly impossible to eradicate. He was followed by a svelte property manager with great jewelry who related stories so horrendous (evicting everyone while fumigation took place) that I viewed bedbugs as a pestilence of biblical proportions and decided it was just another thing to ignore and hope for the best.
This week, the U.S. Environmental Protection Agency conducted its first ever “bedbug summit.” They say we’re having the biggest bedbug outbreak since World War II. (I’m itching all over as I write this.) The problem seems to be that they can’t be lured by bait like roaches and ants, and have a growing resistance to pesticides. Funding is being made available to investigate alternatives like heating, freezing or steaming them to death but, somehow, I don’t feel any better.
April 18
The Obamas have recently given dog ownership a big boost. That pup of theirs is cute but, frankly, lacks the hauteur of the Clintons’ cat, Socks. I have a picture tacked over my desk of 20 or so photographers on the ground in a semicircle trying to get a shot of the feline as he looks in the opposite direction, completely bored. Dogs are, well, different and there are more of them residing in San Francisco than children. Considering that two-thirds of our population rents, rather than owns, calculate the massive collective yearning on the part of our tenants to keep a canine, be it mutt or Portuguese Water Dog. Therein lies a potential strategy to hold on to good tenants in these hard times: tell them they can own a dog. The problem is, of course, that if you let the responsible professional living in a market-rate unit have a dog, the not-so-responsible person living in a revenue-losing unit will surely want one too. Nevertheless, desperate times call for equally desperate measures. Yes, you can require that an additional amount be added to the tenant’s security deposit. Good luck and woof, woof.
April 20
I have to admit that I find it hard to get into the “green thing.” The minute the topic arises, my eyes glaze over and I think how nice a nap would be. (Maybe I should have gone to see Al Gore’s film after all.) Today’s New York Times
Magazine had a long article on the general apathy, even resistance, to going green. Evidently many of us believe that nothing we can personally do will really affect climate change; and, by the way, if the government cared so much about it, why wouldn’t we have better public transportation?
Sociologists, who are paid to study this kind of thing, thought the reason might be that we don’t usually see the problem with our own eyes. Studies were done in Alaska where global warming can be clearly observed. The rural people who depend on hunting and fishing are indeed alarmed, but those living in Anchorage don’t care one bit more than their counterparts living in New York City. So, how are people persuaded to change their ways? The experts say groups are the answer. Evidently, when people get messages while surrounded by their peers, they are more apt to change their habits.
We are fortunate to live in a city that has already mandated many energy-efficient measures, such as low-flow toilets and showerheads, and has provided (albeit at our cost) door-to-door recycling. But, according to the study, those are only baby steps. So, we now see serious (Obama-type serious) efforts to bring the message to, yes, groups: teaching conservation and ecological awareness to classes of 8-year-olds, lectures to civic groups on separating garbage, and our own SFAA holding events like today’s Green Festival. But once we do “get it,” the small property owner still has to figure out how to find the money for a new roof, airtight windows, and wall and floor insulation, not to mention the replacement of all appliances for those bearing the “Energy Star” imprimatur.
April 21
Supervisor Ross Mirkarimi wants the city to sell pot. My tenant Billy, who is a cannabis club member, thinks this might be a good idea if the city had the total franchise. That way the police could control its distribution and make sure the users were totally legit. But because Mirkarimi is a politician looking closely at the mayor’s office and has a large constituency to please, he assures them that the popular weed will also still be available in our neighborhood pot clubs. Kind of defeats the purpose, I think. The members of the pot club a few blocks from me don’t seem to cause any trouble, but then there’s already so much distraction on Haight Street that people could be hallucinating at the stoplights and nobody would even notice. Because yesterday was “420” (National Pot Smoker’s Day), the blue haze was so thick in the air that by the time I got down to the corner grocery store I was in such a good mood I started chatting up the owner and completely forgot why I was there.
May 2
We humans are fiercely territorial and my friend Maggie is no exception. She doesn’t mind that water bills will continue to go up 15% for the next four years because, after all, we voted for the bonds in 2002. She knows the old Hetch Hetchy system needs to be rebuilt and, after all, we’re allowed to pass half of it through to our tenants. But what’s getting her knickers in a knot is the new contract with our suburban clients—those Peninsula counties to whom we sell water. In the new agreement, called the Master Water Sales Agreement, they will get a higher percentage than they have in the current one, drafted some 25 years ago. This contract had San Francisco getting 35% of the water and the suburbs getting 65%. The new contract will have us keeping only 30% and selling the rest. At the same time, we are anticipating that an estimated 30,000 new housing units will be built in the next ten years. Why does the Public Utilities Commission think San Francisco’s use will go down going forward? That’s what Maggie wants to know. There are several public meetings scheduled for next month and, believe me, she’ll be there, looking after our water rights. After all, it’s water we’re talking about here.
The opinions expressed in this article are those of the author, and do not necessarily reflect the viewpoint of the SFAA or the SF Apartment Magazine. Lily’s Diary is written by a longtime rental property owner who reserves the right to remain anonymous on the grounds that her tenants might gang up on her. Comments, corrections or ideas are welcome at lilysdiary@aol.com. Copyright © 2009 by Black Point Press. All rights reserved.