Readers of the daily log will already be aware that I'm buying a house. (Some people read only the log; some people read only the Vents; some people stumble in here by dint of a sloppy Google search and are never heard from again.) If you've missed out on the gory details, they're all over the October archives, but the gist of the matter is simply this: I'm buying a house.

If your immediate response is "Why now?" — inasmuch as I've lived in this same teensy flat for seven years, it's a legitimate question — here are a handful of justifications, all of which I will call into play should I find myself afflicted with buyer's remorse some time between now and the closing, tentatively scheduled for 26 November.

I've lived in this same teensy flat for seven years.
And I lived in a mirror-image flat across the courtyard for three years before that. And while I don't really need anything bigger than this, I'm finding that my horizons are shrinking to fit within the walls, and I don't like that at all.

All else being equal, apartment parking lots tend to fill up with heedless morons.
I don't expect anyone to go two miles out of his way to avoid my car, but goddamn it, how hard is it to keep your frigging door from banging into mine?

All else being equal, apartment parking lots tend to fill up with drunken, heedless morons.
And inasmuch as the typical D.H.M. out here paid $900 for the stereo for his $500 car, and he wants to listen to it for ten or twenty minutes before he shuts down the engine, and you can be absolutely certain he's not listening to Debussy's La mer — well, you get the general idea.

Some demographics suck more than others.
I am rapidly becoming convinced that "Section 8 Welcome" translates to "Trash Us, We Need The Insurance Money." The Law of Unintended Consequences has seen to it that government assistance to people who would like to live in better quarters than they can afford on their own often as not results in an influx of people who shouldn't be trusted near anything even slightly breakable. Probably not Debussy fans, either.

Interest rates are probably going to go back up.
Yeah, I could theoretically afford much nicer digs in a couple of years, once my car is paid off — lenders take that debt-ratio stuff fairly seriously — but it strikes me as highly unlikely that I'd be able to snag a mortgage at anywhere near the rate I'm getting today, unless the economy completely goes to hell, and you can bet President Kucinich won't accept any of the blame if it does.

I walked into the kitchen the other day, and water fell on my head.
A leak — a wake-up call? — from above.

The Vent

#362
25 October 2003

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