We have a fairly constant annoyance, with occasional bursts of much worse emotions, with a new “neighbor from hell.” The existence of this pack of goobers has convinced us it's probably time to move on. Mostly, our motivation to move is based in the fact that, at almost 80, we're probably not up to taking care of this third-acre yard on a hillside anymore.
But, also, the reason we're in this bad-neighbor issue is because the city of Red Wing is mismanaged by a part-time City Council and a full-time and grotesquely overpaid bureaucracy who don't do their jobs. The neighbor from hell property was abandoned for more than 15 years and, since it was abandoned with the whole back side of the house roof unfinished and a large shop roof that collapsed, it should have been condemned and destroyed by the city. It wasn't: because our city inspector is about as energetic as a block of wood and, as long as the absentee owner paid his property taxes, the county was bribed to do nothing. As always, incentives are everything when it comes to humans.
We did some house hunting this past weekend. Two of my target cities are Rochester and Northfield, Minnesota. Yesterday, we spent several hours going from one listing to another, checking out the neighborhoods. We are looking for what is, apparently, an odd property: a small footprint, two bedroom and two baths, reasonably energy efficient house near a quiet downtown area. And pretty much everyone who has a house that fits that criteria ain't going anywhere.
Up to this point, you would be rational in assuming this is going to be a Rat's Eye View rant. But you'd be wrong.
There was one house on my list that ticked every single box and I was really looking forward to seeing it. As we approached the neighborhood, the bicycle trail that ran parallel to the street was almost packed with walkers, joggers, and bicyclists. Bear Creek runs next to the bicycle trail and it looked absolutely kayakable and easily accessible. Despite that “traffic,” the neighborhood is reasonably quiet. My hopes were rising. The house is a four bedroom, three bath, brick home with a small, very manageable yard, and a really nice back deck with a fully fenced backyard. But I barely looked at the house before telling Ms. Day "this ain't it."
The house next door was a large, white box building with a highly customized Harley piece of two-wheeled garbage parked right next to the front door. There are a few things on earth that are a bigger red flag than a customized Harley. I instantly knew why the house we were looking at had been on the market for more than 80 days and the price had dropped three times. I knew why the people who were selling that house desperately wanted to leave. I wish them good luck, but the only people they are likely to find interested in that house would be another biker gangbanger. And, usually, that demographic doesn't have enough money to pay rent let alone fund a house down payment.
And we're in a similar boat with our home. The people who bought the next-door hell-house instantly cut down a backyard full of trees and, because there is no equipment access to their backyard, decided they were going to use a wood chipper to grind up a small forest. This guy is on full Railroad Pension Disability, supposedly due to long-COVID. In the meantime, the garage right next to our property has a collapsed roof and has been condemned by the city. And in Red Wing, condemning a property means absolutely nothing. They are still storing vehicles in the garage and it is obviously a fire trap. Neither the city or the county cares and won’t until it burns down and causes a major neighborhood disaster or someone wanders into that garage and gets injured. At one time, around 2006-2008, the deceased owner’s nephews cooked meth in the house until . . . something, I don’t know what, shut that business down. Supposedly, the meth chemicals still provide an essence to the house. And, did I mention, there is a POS cruiser parked in the collapsing garage. Of course, there is.
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