every now and again the pineapples and i talk about owning property. this is mostly blue-sky dreaming since we’re both up to our ears in student debt, but now that at least one of us has landed a half-way decent job – even though it’s only a 1-year contract, likely non-renewable – the discussion comes up more and more.
today the idea of owning a small cabin or cottage an hour outside of town happened again. a friend of mine has done just this, and she and her partner spend a lot of time at the property tearing it apart and putting it back together again, presumably. oh, the lure of adulthood!
the pineapples and i both like the idea of owning a shack where we can leave the din of towns and cities and shake off mind-forged manacles and whatnot(*). there’s a certain lure to owning a crumbling piece of property that could force me to use a hammer. there’s also a certain lure to turning it into a small writing shed as alistair macleod has done for so many years in Inverness, too. the neatest thing about this idea is that the cost of crumbling sheds is almost affordable enough for us to buy in to. notwithstanding the student loans, the need to own wheels to make this happen, and the inevitable mortgage as well as Rent Within The City, this seems almost doable – a neat way to Get ‘Yer Ocean! and to invest in a property before something better comes along.
Actions items to turn these pies in the sky into something almost manageable:
- find a real-like permanent contract somewhere. this will force our hand when it comes to Figuring Out If We’re Actually Going To Live (t)Here
- own wheels to necessitate The Weekend Life
- commit to learning how to use a hammer and nails from time to time
- get over the fact that creepy-crawly insects are sometimes a fact of life
(* – I make no apology for the Wordsworth and Blake references that smacked you upside the head in this post.)