Update About The House Next Door

I went over and met the new owner--he's owned the house for about a month, he says. Nice guy--a contractor/builder person. He's not going to live there and hasn't decided what he wants to do with the house--sell it now or fix it up and sell it. He told me I could have it for $38,000, as is.

House flipper, is what I mean.

I think he should have it hauled away and sell me the land--he let me go inside, and man! What a horror. He said the toilets were completely full (I didn't go check). There were holes in the walls, parts of the ceiling falling in, hideous filth everywhere. Broken window panes, filthy sheets over the windows, years of stains from cigarette smoke. Filthy stove and refrigerator, a cat box that had never been emptied ever--I thought it was piled with rocks, but no. And he said this was nothing compared to what it had looked like before they started clearing it out. I shudder to think. Most of y'all cannot imagine the squalor. I have seen it before, when I worked at Animal Control. There's a whole sub-species of human that apparently lives and thrives in total squalor and filth.

I don't think it could be salvaged without a TON of work, none of which I know how to do or can afford to have done or am willing to risk my neck and hands trying to learn how to do myself. I'd love to own the lot, but not for that much money.

If I had $38,000 I didn't need--what a concept, huh?--I would buy it just to keep further horrors from happening over there. A miserable, miserable house. He told me the woman was really, really sick and was probably going to check into Scott and White, maybe with pancreatic cancer. I was not surprised. If you remember, when she was trapping and killing our cats, friends sent lots of wishes. While perhaps the word "hexed" is too strong, let's just say that she did not accumulate any good karma. He said she's had several years of constant shingles, big medication, serious depression, undiagnosed pancreatic issues. Not a bit surprising.

I think the best thing that could happen would be for the house to be razed, for me to own the land, and for us to plant a garden. Not quite the dream of a place for art workshops, but I don't see that happening. Sure, I could turn it around, with tons of time and money and big help, but--sigh. I don't see that happening, either.

The bad thing:  who knows who will live there next? The good thing? It won't be the evil cat-killing woman. She won't ever be back.