Heady stuff, this! Scary. Makes my chest tighten up while at the same time makes me feel like a citizen again.
The responsibilities aren’t a big problem because even when we rented we usually took care of all that ourselves. Being grownups, it seemed sort of …… I’m searching for a word here …… childish to go running to someone else to fix every little thing that came along. I realize that your landlord is responsible for doing all of those things, however, it just seemed silly to take the time and effort to call him from (possibly) more pressing things when we could just as easily fix it ourselves and get it done right and right now! We knew it was right because WE did it. Plus, you always get a little cred if you let them know that there was a small problem, but that you fixed it and they didn’t have to bother. Having said this, always make sure that you DO fix it and fix it right. Otherwise you leave yourselves open to all kinds of bad things happening down the road at the most inopportune times.
We have been incredibly lucky with the landlords we’ve had since we moved out of the house I used to own with my ex, Ol Pencil Dick, hereinafter to be referred to as OpeeDee.
Our landlords have all been business owners, who by their very nature
squeeze a nickel so hard the buffalo poops are very cost concious. So we were always allowed to fix whatever we wanted to and just take the costs off of the rent. That way, we didn’t have to wait for them to arrange for someone cheap and crappy of their choosing to come around when they sobered up could fit us into their schedule.
From now on, though, WE will be the homeowners! Hot doggies! I’m stoked. I’m in the zone. I’m ready. I’m already thinking of seceeding from the Union. I think I shall start my own nation. I’ll have four acres. That’s a good amount. Not big enough to draw attention, yet large enough for a garden and some chickens. I can mint my own currency. I’ll restrict my airspace. We’ll be a dictatorship. Benevolent, of course. Now all I have to do is decide on what to call it. Bite Me Land. Kiss My Foot If You Don’t Like It -erica? I’ll have to put some more thought into it.
Woman’s definition of homeownership: I can paint the walls any color I want!
Man’s definition of homeownership: I can piss off of the back porch if I want!
Hint: Don’t piss off of the back porch. That’s just nasty.
Okay, time to go put on my game face. It’s paper signing time. My Dearest Husband says I’m not allowed to go in there smiling like a goon. Not until after we’re done with all the John Hancocks. THEN I can smile like a goon. 🙂 Which I will faithfully do…..for quite sometime. Until the roof leaks, or the septic tank needs to be pumped, or the shower starts leaking into the wall behind everything, or or or OMG *gasp* ….anyone got a Valium I could borrow????