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Mama, if that’s movin’ up then i’m…m-m-m-movin’ out.

At this time next week I will be inhabiting a new space of this great wide world of ours. Far, far away? If only it were true. More like 14 blocks away. Not as exciting, yes, but still exciting nonetheless.

I’ve kind of become a big fan of moving. Maybe I’m a bigger fan of just rearranging my things. Or of finding new ways to arrange them. At any rate, this will be the 3rd time in 3-1/2 years that I’ve moved. Under most conditions, I guess I would be considered fairly mobile. In most other cases I would probably just be considered discontent.

I’m just stepping up my tolerance to living on my own. First I moved in with some friends, next I’m moving into my own apartment. After that, I suppose I’ll begin to consider buying a house.

However, nearly everyone has made it a point to inform me that “now is the best time to buy a house”. I’m sure that it is. I’m just not convinced it’s the best time for me to buy a house. I seriously considered buying one about a year and a half ago. Back then, it was also “a great time to buy”. It was so good that if I would have bought in back then I would have taken a bath to the tune of several thousand dollars. A little something called the “housing market downturn” happened. You’ll note that a “downturn” is really just a nice euphemism for “circling the drain”.

I’ve found that many of the people who are so keen on persuading me to buy a house are usually all home “owners” themselves. Maybe they think that if they sway their circle of influence into believing that their particular home-buying decision was a brilliant one they’ll feel better about it in these uncertain times. It’s kind of like Amway, except the only real kickback is getting all your friends and family into as much debt as you are.

But hey, it’s “good” debt right?

I’m not so convinced (deceived?) just yet. If this economic crisis has taught us anything, it’s that we have put too much stock into owning real estate. It’s just not as foolproof as it once was (or at least as everyone thought it was). And to be honest, I’m perfectly happy living in an apartment. I suppose I’ll know it’s time to buy a house when I can’t stand paying a pesky landlord to fix my leaky faucet and instead decide it’s time to start giving my hard earned money to a greedy loan officer for the next 30 years so that I can mow my own lawn.

Wait, what?

Faux editor’s note: Upon rereading this post a day after I published it, I realize that it probably comes off rather biting to someone who doesn’t know me well. Please understand this was intended to be a sarcastically winsome entry (if there is such a thing?). So if I sounded angry when you first read this, go back and have another go at it. Only this time, imagine me chuckling after every zinger.

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Ryan Straits



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The art of the in-between

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