Housing

I love renting. I love the fact that I’m not responsible for things breaking; the water heater, the plumbing, the stove, the roof - the list is endless. Despite the fact that I do think I’d love a little yard (or garden, as they’re called here), I really love not being responsible for anything outside my place of residence, as well. Basically, I feel like I have enough responsibilities in my life, and I’m grateful that anything relating to the overarching liveability of my home is firmly not within my purview.

That hasn’t stopped me, however, from obtaining this creeping sense over the past few years that maybe-probably I should be thinking about homeownership; in fact, I should’ve been thinking about it for quite a while now, what do you mean you’re nearly 40 and you haven’t even thought about saving for a house?

In the same way I can feel the societal weight of “being a good mom,” I can similarly feel the weight of “you should own a home.” No one has ever explicitly told me I need to own my own home. But the eternally elusive “they” have definitely set their stake in the ground: home ownership makes you a Good Person. I balk at this while also trying not to be seduced by it.

Because, you see, I feel like home ownership is a bit of a scam. You’re offered security (which isn’t real; if you lost your job and couldn’t make your mortgage payments, your house would no longer be yours), longevity (see above), ownership (but can we ever truly own anything?), comfort, peace, a way to come up in the world, etc etc etc.

And I was thinking today, I suppose a reason to own a home would be to pass it along to your kids. But what if they all already own their own places? Then it becomes a burden. Or worse, an argument; a potential division.

And why do I want longevity in my current housing? I love our house and I want to stay here as long as possible. But will I want to be here after the kids move out and we’re old and less mobile? Maybe. Maybe not. Would moving somewhere smaller be unimaginable? Not really.

I mostly never want to move because I like familiarity. And because moving is the worst thing ever in the world (dealing outside the realm of death of loved ones, obviously). And because there’s something about the housing market and property ownership that just gives me the ick. I don’t want to be part of that game, to be honest.

Plus, our landlord is pretty great. Props to Mike.

It all just seems so much more stressful to own. Is it not? Am I crazy? Do you have more of a sense of pride in ownership? Is it more satisfying to own? It seems like most of my friends who own their living spaces are constantly fixing things. That just seems annoying.

And yet, every time I see a For Sale sign, I get a little wistful. A sad sort of “ah, maybe someday” comes over me. So I dunno. Maybe the cultural zeitgeist around housing will end up taking over my lil old mind eventually.

I don’t have a clean conclusion on this one. My thoughts on the subject are still developing. But it’s nice to write them out, at least.