Vincent Safuto’s Weblog

Notes and observations

Good news arrives quickly

The news landed in my email faster than I expected. My tenants are vacating my house on Monday, the report came in from my rental agent.

It was earlier than I expected; I didn’t expect to have unfettered access until March 1, but was welcome, nonetheless.

So on Wednesday, I’ll be driving down again (second time in a week!) to see the house, and this time I get to go inside. I’m actually planning on bringing some clothes and stuff that I’m not using and that can be hung up in the walk-in closet.

I might also grab a folding table and chair out of the storage unit to bring with me so I can enjoy lunch while I’m there.

It might seem strange to some, being a landlord – albeit of the “accidental” variety – to be so emotional about a property, but the house is more than just a collection of concrete blocks and stucco.

Back when I lived in the house, I worked for The Bradenton Times, an online news website owned by a fellow former Marine and Manatee county commissioner. He had several other businesses, including a lot of small homes in Bradenton that were rented out. Part of the fun of working in his offices was the fact that the news outlet was in the same space as the rental operation, and you couldn’t make up the characters who climbed the big wooden stairs, almost always to talk to the rental person.

I know that as a landlord, his concern for his properties was mainly to keep them in good condition so tenants would rent from him and pay their rent in full and on time, and maybe it was because he had so many and he had never lived in them that he had a small connection to them emotionally. They were his business.

I had lived in the house that was being rented to my tenants, and it was never a business except when it had to be. It’s reverting to its former status and while I will miss being less than a mile from work, at least I will have this place back.

Let’s see, I look forward to:

  • My days off, when I can visit friends, go to Sarasota and walk around the neighborhood.
  • My garage, where I can store my stuff until I’m unpacked, and keep the stuff I want to keep on site instead of storing it somewhere else at an expense. Even better, the place to put my car.
  • The master bedroom and master sitting room, where me and the cats can sleep and play.
  • The two other bedrooms, one for my computers and one for my Advanced Squad Leader setups.
  • Again, the garage, where I can leave my telescope partially assembled and drag it out for impromptu observing sessions on a whim.
  • My backyard, where I can also take the telescope, and can sit in the screened-in lanai and look at the wetlands and listen to the crickets at night.
  • The feeling that my life is mine, and no more rude awakenings to the roar of lawn equipment on Thursday morning, and the howling racket that goes on all day Thursday from lawn equipment.

Owning a home is the American Dream, and I can no longer deal with the split of owning a home, but not living in it. Moving back to my house is my effort to reclaim part of what belongs to me.

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February 19, 2012 - Posted by | Life lessons, Living in the modern age | , , , , ,

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