So we were looking at this totally expensive rental this morning, out west of Sebastopol. The place was funky but sort of charming, in a dark wood rustic handmade sort of way. Funky and kind of small too. They want how much for this? $2300 a month.
The owner leads us downstairs to the garage, which was pretty much like a garage. Big deal. But he wants to impress us I guess, so he says 'ah, there's another workshop space over here, behind this wall hanging'. He pulls the curtain back and tada! It's a wall. He looks stunned. Uh, there didn't used to be a wall here. Nice new unpainted drywall. Guess the tenants must have put it in. The tenants? Yeah right. I figured this guy is just a little out of it.
As we were driving away Krista points out that it totally smelled like skunky weed down there and obviously someone was growing in that walled off space! Jeez, I'm so naive. Not as naive as that landlord though. Well, I guess that's one way to afford exhorbidant rent.
As we were driving home I began to feel angry with myself that I was nice to this guy. I was raised to be nice to people. But I wish I'd yelled at him "what are you thinking? why are you asking so much rent for this funky funky place?!"
And I'm looking at all the shiny new super giant sized gas guzzling SUVs purchased via home equity lines of credit and hyper inflated property values, and I'm just waiting for the bubble to pop. To hell with deflating--I want a loud POP!! and I want it soon.