Prospective Tenants?

An aggravating aspect of trying to ready a rental house in a small town is that word gets out that you are there and people come by at all hours wanting to 'be first' to get a chance at being the new tenant. It doesn't matter that you're up on a ladder with paint dripping down your ears, it's always a good time to pop on in for a minute and view a trashed house, walk through the wood and nails in the floor, and ask for a tour, even after being told the place isn't going to be ready for a few weeks.

One of the more interesting characters I met last week I'll call 'Lola'. Lola caught me wet with paint and in the middle of doing a wall. She walked right into the open door and into the living room. Hearing someone enter the house, I hauled ass through the house to meet her head on. She looked familiar.

"Hi, can I help you?' I asked, once hand still cradling the paint roller.
"Yeah, I heard this place is for rent and wanted to look around. Hey, where do I know you from?" she asked.
"I dunno, but you look familiar, too"
"What's your name?"
Maiden name given.
"Ohhhh! You're Aunt Alice's niece, aren't you?" she was gleeful. I realized then that this woman was either high or drunk as she was literally starting to bounce around the room.
"Umm, yes. I have an Aunt Alice."
"I thought I knew you. I saw *so and so* yesterday.(inject large rib crunching hug here) Hey Bubba, come here. This is my niece Lisa!"
I thought about the paint covering most of my body and politely tried to untangle myself.
"I talked to Aunt Alice last night! I wonder why she didn't tell me you were here?"
I stopped. Ok, my Aunt Alice had been dead for some years. In Lola's present condition, being as her feet weren't quite touching the floor when she walked, maybe she did talk to my aunt, but I was thankful to realize we weren't family.
"Ummm, I think there's a mix up. I don't think I'm your niece."
"What's your name again? Didn't you marry *deleted*?"
"No, must be a different person. Sorry."
"So, can I still look at the house? Let me be honest with you"
"Always a good idea, " I interject.
"I'm bi-polar. We were staying with my mom who got tired of me being under her feet. I'm an addict, drugs and alcohol. Last year, I hit bottom and was locked up for a while. We're at a motel paying $165 a week now. $165! Can you believe that? Let me be honest, I'm on meds and trying to remember to take them. I have no credit. Last year messed it up for me. When I went crazy, I lost all my credit. He doesn't either, since he's a recovering addict, too. 2 months now. I'm proud of him! Oh, and I'm OCD (obsessive compulsive disorder) and I like to clean. This place won't have a speck of dirt it in when I live here. My mom couldn't stand my constant cleaning. We're homeless. Please, please, please, I'm begging you! Let me be honest, I need this house. Please, please, please!"
At this point, she's pulling at my arm and her eyes are glassy as can be. There were a lot more words than I'm putting in there, but keep in mind they were uttered at breakneck speed with nary a place in between them.
"Umm, I have rental applications in the other room. If you'd like to fill one out..." I pulled myself free.
I returned and handed her an application.
She looked down at the application with a frown, "I know we know people in common. Hey, do you know One-Armed Billy? He's my kin. Everyone knows him"
"Umm, I dunno. Could be. I've been gone from here a while. I really need to get back to work on the house, though, " I fidgeted with my paint roller and politely as I could herded Lola towards the door.

I never heard a word from her again. I wasn't surprised. Now, One-Armed Billy, that's another story.