As mail continues to pour in from various lawyers about our impending home foreclosure, and now that I've been legally advised to be on the look out for my house going up for Sheriff's sale (at which point we can legally stop paying rent), and with rent-day approaching, Dave thought it wise to do a little research on our house.
He searched the Sheriff's page for our house and came up with nothing. Then he googled our address, and all at once, a lot of questions surrounding this place were answered. He called me at work to tell me.
"Guess what happened in our house a few years ago?"
My stomach flopped. I was sure he was going to tell me someone was murdered here. The house has a creepy vibe which the possibly satanic scrawlings on the walls in the basement don't do much to ease.
"Our landlord was busted selling $4,000 of coke and methamphetamine to a police informant."
Ohhhhh, that's much nicer! And it certainly does explain this house being vacant for a few years (the landlord was in prison), the random undesirable people stopping by in the middle of the night searching for him (sometimes cordially, sometimes not. "You hiding him? He in there??!?!"), the water bill getting racked up to almost $500 (and left unpaid), the gas getting cut off from lack of payment (which lead to us having to put down a deposit), the landlord's wild mood swings (he's on coke!), and the creepy, possibly satanic scrawlings in the basement (drugs lead you to do and think strange things- I once became convinced that a plastic bag was my child when I was on acid.)
So our house, in addition to being his lavish second house (thanks for the jacuzzi tub dude!) where we're pretty sure he brought people to bone down, was also where he ran his large-scale drug operation.
What strikes me as the funniest part of this is that the tenants who succeeded him were 3 straight edge kids. I mean, what are the odds?