The "Joys" of Home Ownership.
Since I've gotten back into town, I've been struggling with a convention of machismo referred to as "home improvement". But you see, my sufferings have not been of a physical nature- but rather wholly psychological. For I admit to being a heretical American male. That's right... I admit it. I hate D.I.Y. home renovation projects.
Why did I resist taking the plunge into the housing market? Why did I come up with every weak argument to avoid being expelled from the womb-like embrace of "rental properties"? Because I don't want to stick my hand in the toilet tank. I don't want to sand floors. I don't want to install ceiling fans. But like the boy who feared being chased by bloody clowns in the woods behind the treehouse... there is no escape. That next rumbling you here could be an expiring refrigerator or an imbalanced washing machine. Or it could be the thumping of your heart, plagued with the anxiety that leaves you paralyzed with procrastination.
When I lived in Larryville, and the basement drain began to puke up a fetid mix of human waste and groundsoil, did I rush for a pick and shovel? No, I did not. When pigeons flew down an exposed flue and into the house, did I stride willingly into battle with a plastic garbage can and a broom? No... not willingly. When the roof began to link, did I crawl up on a ladder with a bucket of tar? Of course not. I did what came naturally to me. I called the landlord. Your landlord is a strange mix of father-figure, adversary, feudal baron and God- except that unlike these personages, you can sue your landlord if he is negligent. If he can't do it himself, or if he is a successful real estate-man, then he sends his armies instead to do the work.
If you buy your own house, then you elevate yourself (or so I am told). You are now the king of your castle. You have joined Bush's "ownership society". You've made a shrewd financial decision. Within ten or so years, you will even build a little equity. Why throw money down the drain? Home ownership is an investment (or so I am told). Well let me tell you... unless you enjoy playing the handyman in your spare time, you better put a lot of thought into this choice. Perhaps only in Pittsburgh could I have been in the position to justify buying property.
Because let me tell you... when I walk into Home Depot, I ain't no wide-eyed Charlie Bucket searching for the magically elusive Willy Wonka, with his shimmering streams of chocolate. Nope. I'm just another wayward lost soul, with visions of frustration, incomprehension, and self-inflicted grievous injury. Why did I sweat in order to get a stable 40+ hour /week professional job, if not to have the luxury of paying someone else to do the things I'm either incapable of, or that I find to be onerous tasks? If I can subsidize someone else's living by hiring them to do a better job than I could, then aren't I contributing to a balanced society? I ask you... am I truly less of a "man" if I am helping to enable others to attain their own self-realization?
Why did I resist taking the plunge into the housing market? Why did I come up with every weak argument to avoid being expelled from the womb-like embrace of "rental properties"? Because I don't want to stick my hand in the toilet tank. I don't want to sand floors. I don't want to install ceiling fans. But like the boy who feared being chased by bloody clowns in the woods behind the treehouse... there is no escape. That next rumbling you here could be an expiring refrigerator or an imbalanced washing machine. Or it could be the thumping of your heart, plagued with the anxiety that leaves you paralyzed with procrastination.
When I lived in Larryville, and the basement drain began to puke up a fetid mix of human waste and groundsoil, did I rush for a pick and shovel? No, I did not. When pigeons flew down an exposed flue and into the house, did I stride willingly into battle with a plastic garbage can and a broom? No... not willingly. When the roof began to link, did I crawl up on a ladder with a bucket of tar? Of course not. I did what came naturally to me. I called the landlord. Your landlord is a strange mix of father-figure, adversary, feudal baron and God- except that unlike these personages, you can sue your landlord if he is negligent. If he can't do it himself, or if he is a successful real estate-man, then he sends his armies instead to do the work.
If you buy your own house, then you elevate yourself (or so I am told). You are now the king of your castle. You have joined Bush's "ownership society". You've made a shrewd financial decision. Within ten or so years, you will even build a little equity. Why throw money down the drain? Home ownership is an investment (or so I am told). Well let me tell you... unless you enjoy playing the handyman in your spare time, you better put a lot of thought into this choice. Perhaps only in Pittsburgh could I have been in the position to justify buying property.
Because let me tell you... when I walk into Home Depot, I ain't no wide-eyed Charlie Bucket searching for the magically elusive Willy Wonka, with his shimmering streams of chocolate. Nope. I'm just another wayward lost soul, with visions of frustration, incomprehension, and self-inflicted grievous injury. Why did I sweat in order to get a stable 40+ hour /week professional job, if not to have the luxury of paying someone else to do the things I'm either incapable of, or that I find to be onerous tasks? If I can subsidize someone else's living by hiring them to do a better job than I could, then aren't I contributing to a balanced society? I ask you... am I truly less of a "man" if I am helping to enable others to attain their own self-realization?
Labels: Anecdote, Gender, Home Ownership
posted by Merge Divide at 8:24 PM
1 Comments:
I used to feel guilty when I subcontracted work on my apartment building. I grew up in a family of house builders and because I do know how to do stuff I thought that I should. These days I would rather paint a picture of your cats butt than do repairs. I do jobs in my field that I'm not real excited about doing to pay the repairman - the guilt goes away. Working a 40 should afford the same to you. Barter is great too. It does help if you do some homework and know exactly what an unknown contracter is doing and how long it should take. Letting someone else be landlord is looking better in better. Good luck. JM
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