The Tax Man Calleth…

Though thankfully, not on me. In another installment in the continuing saga of our crazy landlords, my doorbell rang today in the early afternoon (there have been other episodes in the interim, but there are just so many and they’re so frustrating that I don’t have the heart to go on about every one of them).

As happens frequently, I opened the door and was met with a gentleman firing rapid German at me, and I stopped him to ask him if he spoke English. He said he did, and asked if Mrs. Landlord was home. I said no, she doesn’t live here. He looked completely perplexed at this, and asked if he could call her. I said sure, but she lives in Canada. Now he begins to look really surprised.

“In Canada?!?” says he.

“Oh, yes, in Canada.” says I.

“But for how long?” says he?

“Hmmm, well, we’ve lived here since last April, and they left in June or July, I think.” says I. “Who are you?”

“I am from the Sinsheim Tax Station.” says the Tax Man. (our little town is a suburb of Sinsheim)

{Oh, dear} thinks I.

“And her husband?” asks the Tax Man?

“Oh, he is in Canada, too. He works there.” says I.

And on it goes. During this short conversation, I was thinking back to the time that I talked to Mrs. Landlord on the phone and she told me that I couldn’t tell anyone that they don’t really live here, and that I shouldn’t say anything when the banker showed up to look around the house. And I was remembering the funny pieces of mail that I’ve gotten off and on in my German mailbox that are addressed to Mr. and Mrs. Landlord, and that they were from the Sinsheim Finanzamt (that would be something like the “Tax Station” I would think). But I don’t care what Mrs. Landlord wants, I’m not going to lie to the German tax collector on her behalf. Um, no, just…no.

I finally asked Mr. Tax Man if this was a problem that Mr. and Mrs. Landlord don’t live here, and he said “Yes, it is for the Tax Station.” Eeeeewww. Sounds like whatever game Mr. and Mrs. Landlord are running has now been uncovered, and the jig is up. I called the Army housing office to advise them of this latest strange development, and the woman that I’ve been talking to a lot lately about all the problems with this house said that at least it’s always interesting here. She ain’t kiddin’. Never a dull moment.