The mushy side of being a landlord

Guys, I got a new job: Landlady. I thought I had this house sold a hundred times, but naw, in the end we had a few surprises and it came down to getting a renter. At first I kind of panicked about the situation. Will I have to field calls about party noises? What will I do when the tenants tell me the rent is too damn high and I have to send Buh-Stell over to pound the pavement? Then I realized all the benefits of renting out my house. Since we still own it, we can always visit our first home when our hearts get mushy (also when the boiler needs inspecting). We're still invested in the neighborhood here so we can drop in on block parties and holiday festivities without feeling like weirdos. And the best part? Managing an escrow account and picking through spreadsheets. Just kidding. The best part is the awesome people we're bringing into our community.

Let me tell you, my tenants are rad. They're just like tenants on TV (Friends, Laverne & Shirley, anyone in New York). That is to say they are cooler than me, which means I have to be the lady in the caftan collecting their check. Hi, I'm old person in long drapey pearls!

I always wanted to be the Krissy.

Okay, my renters fit a much more traditional family configuration and don't have those ridiculous lapels. But I'm still the landlady, which brings an inherent uncoolness and several confusing situations. Like what happens when the basement booze fridge goes on the fritz? Who cuts the grass? If evil spirits possess the house, do I foot for the exorcism? Questions! I have them.

It's emotional to leave your home so this is a comforting bridge for me. I guess it's not that big of a deal. My home is just a house, which is just stuff, which is just atoms. Walls! Ceilings! Fingernails! Children! It all breaks down to carbon and salt in the end anyway, right? I dunno, I'm not much of a chemist, I'm just trying to tell myself that me moving to a new house and different people living here is just a swirling of particles in an otherwise meaningless universe and all that really matters in life is how we treat each other, not whose name is paying the taxes at this address. Right?

Okay, I think I'm ready. Let's do this. You may now refer to me as Mrs. Roper.


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