Whoever cursed me, can you please retract? After six months of being in “move mode” I’m ready for some uninteresting downtime please. I just want to live my life unencumbered by drama, thank you very much. The latest? Ever since we moved in here, the landlords have been a bit weird about the mail. She kept one of the mailbox keys, because they were staying in a vacation apartment until they left for Canada, and so their mail was still being delivered here, ostensibly so that she wouldn’t have to change addresses with all these correspondents twice.
I had at least two separate mail delivery people ask about the landlords and where they were, and I tried my best to explain that they were still around but only temporarily before they went off to Canada, and that I was collecting their mail until then. She never did cough up the other mail key even when they left, so we only have one. The last day they were here (the day they finally turned over the garage keys), she said that we couldn’t tell the mail delivery people that they weren’t here, because one of the delivery companies was a private company, and they couldn’t change their address with them. HUH?? She expected that they would be getting a few more letters via this company, and that we should just accept them, and call her friend to pick them up.
Well, I was a bit nonplussed. Why should we be accepting their mail, and “not telling” the delivery people that the landlords no longer live here? When these letters showed up, they were from the Finanzamt in Sinsheim; our little town is part of the bigger Sinsheim city, and the German Finanzamt is the equivalent of the United States IRS. Stranger and stranger.
That’s where things stood when the landlady called me Friday afternoon to tell me some big story about how strange the mortgage laws are in Germany now, and that a man from their bank would be visiting the house Monday afternoon at 2:00 to have a look around inside and out. And oh, by the way, we should definitely NOT tell this banker that the landlords don’t live here. Um. What?? The landlady is sending her friend by to meet with the banker, and I should not talk with him at all, she says. Wow.
I’m not getting warm fuzzies by this time. Not at all. This banker is undoubtedly not stupid, and I’ll bet that he’ll figure out double quick that we’re American. Nothing inside my house looks German, I have a very un-Germanlike car in my garage, and when I open my mouth to say hello (well, what else am I supposed to do when I open the door??) it’ll be a dead giveaway and he won’t even need to guess. I called the housing office, since they helped us get involved with these crazy people in the first place. They recommended to answer truthfully when questioned, and contact the military legal office. Now I really don’t have warm fuzzies.
I have no idea why the landlords don’t want their tax bureau and their mortgage holder to know they don’t live here anymore, but I’ll bet it’s not a good, perfectly legal reason. I keep thinking about what it could be, and wondering if all hell will break loose shortly here, and if we’ll be forced to move house, again. I asked the housing office about that and who’d be paying for the move if it got to that point, and they said that of course, it would be our responsibility to either move ourselves or pay someone else to do it. Great. Just what I wanted to hear, but not unexpected knowing the military as I do. Of course, they should be expecting to hear us screaming about it as well if the worst happens. Not that they’ll care, but they should, IMO.
So, I’m interested to see this banker this afternoon, to see how this all goes. Interesting times indeed.