My partner seldom wants to go anywhere and it is even less often that he comes up with an idea of something he wants to do. Yesterday was an exception.

We joined a group that went to Philadelphia for a “rail fan” tour. In the morning, we toured the 30th Street Station in Philly and learned about its history. We then got to see Amtrak’s operations center which is also located there. It was an interesting behind-the-scenes insight into how Amtrak’s operations run.

We had lunch at the station, and boarded a bus which took us to a trolley car barn operated by SEPTA, the authority that runs public transit in Philly. We boarded a chartered PCC II trolley car for a delightful trip all over the city. We stopped several times for “photo ops,” which I did a few times, but honestly, to me, one picture of a trolley car looks pretty much the same as all others. We rode for hours and hours all over Philadelphia. The smile on my partner’s face was endless. He has always had a special fascination with trams, trolleys, and street cars since he remembers them from his days as a kid. We have spent days and days riding trams in Melbourne, Australia; Christchurch, New Zeland; Munich and Frankfort, Germany; Vienna, Austria; Toronto, Canada; and New Orleans and San Francisco, USA. In fact, back in the day when we traveled, half of our time playing tourist was just to ride the trams.

I enjoy it when my partner is happy. He works so hard and does so many things to help me that the rare times he wants to do something for his own happiness is only my pleasure to support.

Life is short: keep smiling! Show those you love that you love them.

So, how do you like my new shoes? They are, according to the Esquire “Best Dressed Real Man” contest, the hottest thing for men this Spring.

When I was asked to enter the contest from several people who are always in awe of my innate sense of fashion and style, I saw that these shoes were on the list of what was considered the ultimate in men’s fashion, and I had to have them. Since money isn’t an object for the guppy set, I used my cell phone to call the valet to bring ’round my newly-leased Lexus LX09 Hybrid SUV and drove myself over to Neiman Marcus to get a pair. I mean heck, they were only $495 a pair. I purchased a pair in black, too, since they were such a great buy. (You don’t just get these shoes, you go through a purchasing experience at their sales event). And while I was there, I got fitted for three new suits and picked up a half-dozen new fine silk ties. My old suits and ties were getting a little tattered. I’ve been wearing them for a few months now. Time for Spring duds and also time to donate my hardly-used clothing to the Planet Aid bin in the grocery store’s parking lot.

And what a pleasant surprise! They gave me a set of men’s hair and skin products as a gift for buying the suits (wow, a $100 value!), consisting of green tea face wash (that’s the latest thing, fellas!), herbal skin softener, under-eye toner, and ginseng hair rinse. Oh, and bottle of ode-de-realman cologne, too! Wow!

In reviewing on-line articles about cocktail attire, where it says that “boots under trousers are an abomination,” I know a new suit, tie, and expensive dress wingtip shoes will be the hit of the party at the latest gathering in Guppyville!

After the great shopping experience, I dropped into a nearby Starbucks. I began Twittering on my laptop. While sipping a java chip frappacinno, admiring the new shoes, I sat back and said…

OH MY GOD! WHAT A NIGHTMARE!

April Fools!

Not much time to blog today… I’m sore as heck. My partner and I spent 12 hours yesterday cleaning up that house that I bought for my rental investments. Great thing is that it is now clean as a whistle. I got all of my renovation and repair estimating done, and it will not take much to bring the house to livable condition.

I will make a few calls today to some painters for estimates. A thorough interior paint job is needed, and of all the trades, painting is not something I like to do.

Today, I file for the permits I require to do the various renovation projects that need to be done. My county issues permits for everything — there is probably one even for blowing your nose. Those things are costly! But it’s just the price I have to pay.

Next week, I will “up the electrical,” meaning that I will install a new circuit breaker panel to bring the house up to today’s power demand and safety standards. A few more weeks of after-work time, where I will install new outlets throughout (there is only one in each room) and central air conditioning, and we’ll be all set. Many years ago I got an electrician’s license because I enjoyed doing electrical work, and I was too poor and too cheap to pay an electrician to do home renovation projects (especially on my first house, which I had to rebuild literally from the inside out). Once I do my electrical work, I will ask a buddy who is a Master Electrician to connect it to the grid.

The worst part of the house is the kitchen. It’s awful. Someone installed baby blue tile all over — on the floor, walls, and countertops. That all has to go. I will break that out and replace it with better flooring and Corian countertops in neutral colors. I’ll also put in a new sink. The appliances are all in good shape and are relatively new.

With those changes, the house will be ready to go. This is the first post-WWII Cape Cod in which I have not had to replace all the windows. Someone seems to have installed new double-pane windows within the last decade. The rest of the house is in very good shape. Except for a lot of dust and some spiders, there wasn’t a whole lot to clean up. (Believe me, I have dealt with a lot worse.) The previous owner didn’t “trash” it. When the painting is done, I’ll install new carpeting.

I wore an old pair of Corcoran Field Boots as my work boots with camo BDUs. I like to wear BDUs when I do dirty work because they are loose and comfortable, and have lots of big pockets. My partner wore an old pair of Timberlands with jeans. And yes, we both wore tool belts. It just makes tools we need more handy when they’re at your waist. Sorry, no photo. I didn’t bring the camera, and my partner wouldn’t have wanted to be seen in a dusty, dirty condition. He is rather particular about how his image is displayed. I sure was happy to have his help.

I needed even more “spot help” when I was removing that old crappy aluminum awning that was propped up over the front door and steps. My tenant who occupies the house next door was coming home when he saw me struggling with it, and came over to help. Right after he got off work. Oh, did I mention he is a motor officer? Hmmm… nice “distraction” watching him in his motor boots as we tore that thing off the porch. He is a very nice guy and great tenant.

My partner and I are pooped, but we are basking in the aches and pains of a job well done.

They say that in bad financial times like these, it’s a time to buy when things are less expensive and there is a lot of competition in the market.

I have not been actively looking to buy any more houses. I already own seven houses (including the one in which we live) and a condo. Why so many? I actually lived in each of these homes as I renovated them from the inside to outside, making them liveable, comfortable homes. They are all within a few blocks of one another, in an old, mature neighborhood that is convenient to public transit and shopping. As I moved on, I put the previous house in a rental inventory that is dedicated to affordable housing for community heroes (cops, firefighters, teachers.)

Over 33 years since I bought my first “Harry-Homeowner Special,” I have learned a thing-or-two about determining if a house is worth fixing up and renting.

Last week, one of my tenants called to say that the house next to his had been vacant for some time. He said he thought he saw a truck hauling off what remained of the household contents a few months ago. He was concerned about the blight of a vacant property, which has become an eyesore and possibly worse.

I decided to look the property up in on-line records, and what did I discover but on the day I checked, the property converted to “bank owned,” meaning it was being foreclosed. I did more research, called some people, and found that the previous owners owed lots of money to lots of people, and probably skipped town. The bank that assumed ownership of the property, like most banks, really didn’t want it.

I put on my thinking cap. I checked the amount of back taxes that were due — not bad, considering. I dropped by the house after work and walked around it. The “outside bones” looked decent. New(er) roof, decent paint job, working gutters and downspouts, no broken windows, or other visible signs of damage. Sure, there were signs of neglect, but those things are minor and can be easily and quickly fixed.

I called the bank the next morning. After a couple hours of transfers and annoying “press-this-for-that” automated answering systems, I finally reached a live human being in the United States (a rarity these days) who was willing to talk to me about the property. He arranged for me to visit the property and inspect it. I brought along a good friend who is a professional home inspector. We found nothing materially wrong with the house — in fact, it was in excellent condition considering it had been abandoned and neglected.

It was time to act. I turned to the bank representative and made an offer based on what I knew about overdue taxes and the real-estate assessment. He couldn’t accept the offer then-and-there, but the next morning, I got a call from a higher-up at the bank, and we negotiated the terms. I got a really sweet deal because the bank did not want to carry another house in their already overburdened inventory of foreclosed properties.

I went to settlement yesterday, and my partner and I will be spending the day today (Sunday), cleaning up and preparing a list of actions that will be necessary to get the house into good shape for occupancy. I have a great renovation and construction estimating program on my laptop that covers all the details, down to the number of pounds of screws and nails that will be required.

Next… I pursue getting the property listed on the inventory for affordable housing so it can be made available for rent by more community heroes. Check back later!

Meanwhile, we’ve got our work boots and tool belts on!

I actually think I was born in the middle of the Atlantic Ocean — the time zone there fits my biorhythms better. That is, ever since I was a kid, I naturally awaken between 4 to 4:30am, every day. Even weekends.

On weekends when I wake up, I just snuggle closer to my partner and drift in and out of dreamland for a couple hours until he wakes up about 5:30 or 6. Weekdays, we both get up no later than 4:30.

I have always been that way — rising early and then getting to bed by 8:30 at night, or 9 if I’m stuck in a meeting or something.

I am lamenting about my biorhythms being out of whack with the rest of the world that I work with in my community. They have meetings and events that I attend that begin at 7pm if I’m lucky, or 7:30pm, which is more common. Most meetings are well-planned, and last just about two hours. But that’s 9:30pm! Too late for me. I often get up from a meeting if it’s still going on at 8:45pm and leave. After that, I can’t think well and I am just too tired to press on. (or want to.)

This is one reason why I will never run for office or become an elected official. The hours that they have to work never coincide with my biorhythms. It’s also a reason why I don’t attend some meetings or events to which I am invited — including those infernal fundraising dinner-dances. Seriously, I never quite could handle “late.”

And it’s another reason why I never really went out much to gay bars and such — “gay time” is shifted several hours later than most other’s time anyway… so there’s no way I can handle staying awake that late (which seems to me like “all night.”)

I honestly feel that my world is upside down. Everyone else seems to wake up around 6 or 7, and manage to stay awake until 10 or 11. I’m two to three hours “ahead” of everyone else. When they set meetings and events, they do it because it accommodates the schedules of most others. But not me.

I know other people who tell me that they get up early, but also stay awake until the wee hours of the morning. They claim that they only “need” four or fewer hours of sleep each night. They seem to manage, but I often wonder how they function. I certainly can’t manage on such a little amount of sleep each night.

Gay guys seem to keep really late hours when they surf the ‘net. About 30% of visitors to my website from the U.S. are visiting between midnight and 4am, Eastern Time. I won’t comment more about that — you can arrive at your own conclusions about that observation.

Well, anyway, I will just accept the fact that what they told me when we were in Australia is correct: our seasons are backwards, our hemisphere is upside down, and our time is all off. Perhaps my friends from the Land of Oz are on to something.

Life is short: (get some sleep!)