Friday Jan. 16 was the day That Guy was ordered out of my house. Lots of interesting little tidbits to share later about court orders versus clerk offices and sheriff departments, but for today let’s talk about going out there to see if he was gone.

He was. He had stripped the house. Cabinet from the walls. Doors from a cabinet left behind. Furniture, wall art, rugs. The linoleum down the hallway ripped up, probably the worst of the damage.

Nate, a handyman who went with me to change the locks and be there just in case, is accustomed to evictions. He works for a non-profit I volunteer with that helps house homeless people. Some use it as a perch from which to relaunch. Some see it as a cozy nest they need do nothing to keep.

Nate looked around and said, “Most of this makes sense. They took the rugs and the linoleum to keep from being held accountable for pet damage. I don’t know why they took the cabinet off the wall, or the hanging bars from the closets.”

They are gone. And with them any hope of this guy ever having a good housing deal again. He’s shot himself in the foot because word is through the community. Nate works for the homeless help center. The friend who introduced me to him has refused to take him back to her house. He will find some help someplace: a couch surf, a family tie. But he will never get the deal he had with us:10 hours of work a week, keep the house you’re living in clean and in good working order, pay the light bill.

Another friend who gave me moral support through the court proceedings has a beloved grandson who was harmed as a child. An unstable upbringing involving pain and violations of a child’s trust. And this beloved child now inflicts pain and violates trust. Just like the guy we would have let live in our property forever, if only he had kept his end of the deal. Pain does not heal pain, but so many people try it anyway.

The trailer is empty. The promises are empty. The future is empty. Hollow in the holler. Why are people proud to be their own worst enemies?