I’ve been spoiled by renting from my parents for so many years. It seems I need to get used to renting from a landlord who is, essentially, a stranger.
The kitchen cabinets in the house are awful, just awful. They’re something that is common to find in houses built in San Diego in the 1980s. From a distance, the wood is attractive, but up close it’s apparent that the wood is ugly and grimy, and the construction is poor.
We were hoping to spruce up the cabinets a bit by either whitewashing them or completely painting them white. We thought this would be a marked improvement and make the kitchen more habitable (right now it’s mostly just dirty and unpleasant).
No can do. The landlord won’t let us.
I can’t really say that I’m surprised. He wants us to return the house to him as we found it, and taste is subjective. So while we believe we’re adding value and aesthetics to the house, he doesn’t feel that way.
That’s fine. I don’t really see why I should spend any time or money doing things that only increase the value of his property anyway. What do I end up gaining from it? So all of what we do will be temporary. He’ll get back the same dirt lot, the same dying grass, and the same ugly kitchen he gave us.
In fact, the less I appreciate the house, the more incentive I’ll have to get out. Either to a better rental or a home of our own.
One thing I won’t miss about our current residence—an attached townhouse—is our neighbor. She moved into the neighboring unit about two years ago. Since then, she has been nothing but annoying. The music pounding through the walls, the cars parked in front of our garage, and the shrill, high-school-ish nature of herself and her friends. Not to mention that, no matter how many times we ask or complain to management, it doesn’t change.
So I’d like to try detached housing for a while. On the one hand, I like having a home-owners association to tend to the landscaping and building exterior; but on the other hand, I’d like to have a little space between myself and my neighbors. Particularly when the walls are paper-thin.
As much as I’ve loved going to Vegas in the past, I don’t think we’ll be going again for a long time. Each time we’ve gone, the time spent there has grown progressively less fun. This time, I think, it was a real bust.
I don’t know if it was because we’re trying to save enough money to buy a house or because I didn’t have a gaming partner—probably a bit of both—but I didn’t do any gambling this time. I didn’t even spend the entire night drinking and wandering aimlessly, taking in the sights. I hate to say it, but I think I’ve become bored with Vegas. At least for now.
We’re off to Vegas this afternoon. I’ve been looking forward to this trip for several weeks. This time around we’re staying at the Monte Carlo. At first, I was a little upset about paying so much for the room, but luckily the price kept dropping. Now we’re paying about the same amount for the entire weekend as a single night was originally going to cost.
I can’t wait.