We are the slumlords. That is the name that we go by in any correspondence sent and received between our basement tenants and me and my husband … the landlords. In our defense, our tenants live in the lap of luxury. This 2,540-square-foot mother-in-law apartment features three bedrooms, two full baths, a full kitchen with all stainless appliances (including a new dishwasher, refrigerator/freezer, gas stove/oven) and a walk-in pantry. This unit also includes an oversized two-car garage, a covered patio, separate laundry and three fireplaces. This is a sweet set-up by anyone’s standards.

Ever since a couple of mice (or a few), stealthily found access into their space, we have been called the slumlords. Although we set traps, the mice continue to creep in. It is the price we all pay for living in the mountains. Although we have worn the title of slumlord proudly, as of late, we have become a bit more deserving of the moniker.

There was the time, most recently, where one of the flooring subs fell through the ceiling, landing in their dining room, just as they were sitting down to dinner. In all fairness, however, it wasn’t right on their table. There was also a recent occasion in which they had to go visit their parents in Wyoming for a few days due to the noise from the continual jack hammering from the construction going on above. Why a 1-year-old can’t sleep through that is beyond me. Perhaps they felt it necessary to leave because of the flaking drywall and nail pops throughout their house during the jackhammering phase. It could have been the dust as well, come to think of it.

It turned out well for us, however. We squatted on their property when they left since it was raining outside, and we couldn’t use our usual accommodations on the back porch during said construction.

Either way, it is not as if this is a permanent situation. Although the mice might be, the construction, hopefully, is not. I have seen worse. I have met people who claimed they didn’t have hot water for nearly a year. The landlord kept telling them it was going to be fixed, but it never was. I also met a couple who had moved into a place where the furnace had been pulled out. There was a promise to replace it the first week of their move in, which was during the summer; however, six weeks in, it was nowhere to be found. Neither was the landlord. He was not returning phone calls or texts. The couple moved out and put a stop payment on their rent.

We don’t have bedbugs. We provide indoor plumbing. There is both heating and central air conditioning. We don’t even have cockroaches. Plus, we are fully accessible. We currently live on our back porch; you can’t miss us. How could we be called “the slumlords?”

According to USLegal.com, a slumlord property has “deteriorated or is in a state of disrepair and that manifests one or more of the following conditions that are a danger to the health or safety of the public: Structurally unsound exterior surfaces, roof, walls, doors, floors, stairwells, porches, or railings.

If that is the case, perhaps this title of ours is well earned.

Jen Fischer is an associate broker and Realtor. She can be reached at 801-645-2134 or jen@jen-fischer.com.