Housing: The Fear of Moving

 

I'm looking for a new place to live. I love my house but it's far away from civilization. This is good if you want to be away from people and pollution, but not so good if you want a place to get organic food or need medical attention. And my house isn't far enough away as my inconsiderate neighbors stink as does the town's mill. I need to be out in the country, but closer to civilization.

 

 

I've contacted a real estate agent to help me sell this house which is an extremely scary idea. It will involve inviting strange people to walk around my personal space, look at my personal belongings, and contaminate my only safe place on earth.

And then, where do I go if it sells? The great thing about this house is it's paid. No rent or mortgage and when looking toward the future, this is a good thing. I'm afraid of purchasing again. Mortgages are hell. The interest alone can double the cost of a house and I don't have lots of spare cash lying around to buy something outright. Being closer to civilization means much more debt as property is more expensive the closer one gets to a city. Besides the cost, I'm still not sure if I want to ever buy again as I don't know if I want the responsibility of maintenance or harassment of construction workers.

So I'm weighing my options. Do I go back to renting?

 

My current idea is to rent while I'm trying to sell the house so I don't have to worry about stinky, prospective buyers walking in and out of my house and I can move much of my stuff out so it's de-personalized and presentable for showing. I would like to remove Peter as well so I don't have to worry about him. I'm hoping if I find a good place to rent I won't feel the need to buy.


I've been looking at rentals off and on for about four years. The last apartment rental cost me $425 a month, but that was nearly ten years ago, and of course, prices have nearly doubled. I have no desire to live in an apartment with shared walls. And Peter is still alive so my options are limited. I need an outdoor space for him.

Lately I've been looking at small houses. I am finding some, but the rents are anywhere from $700 to $1500 per month. Naturally those $1500 a month rentals are much nicer and cleaner with lovely features such as views of lakes or beaches, fields or mountains. Very hard to justify since I'm currently paying 0 (zero!) for rent right now.

I found what seemed like a good place a few months ago. The landlord claimed it was a cottage, out in the woods on property with a washer and dryer. My definition of a cottage is a small, freestanding, single story building. I asked basic questions via email: electricity vs. propane, hardwood flooring vs. carpeting, lease and deposit information, neighbors and their barking dogs, appliances, etc.

When everything seemed to pan out I moved to my second phase of questioning: Peter. Most places don't allow pets, meaning cats or dogs, indoor animals. Peter is a special situation since he'll never be living indoors to pee all over the floors and he's not going to bite or bark. Still, I need enough room to build him an outdoor cage.

Even that all worked out and I made an appointment to see the cottage, but I needed to ask one more question. I didn't want to ask it, but I also didn't want to waste my time since the drive was three hours one way. I emailed: Do you wear cologne? I explained I had allergies. He did mention in an earlier email he lived on the property although about 500 feet away. Too close if he wears cologne. And if he wears cologne and wants to do repairs in my home, in my air space, not going to happen. No answer. Hmmm...my spidey instincts flared. Something was wrong. Why wasn't he responding? It's not that difficult a question.

The landlord asked me to call him before leaving for the appointment to confirm so that morning I did. He was expecting my call and without so much as a greeting he screamed,

"WHAT DO YOU THINK THIS IS A DATING SERVICE?"

Whoa! I stuttered, "Ah, ah, um, no." Nothing like a stupid, smart-ass question to throw me off guard. I should have hung up, but I was in a state of shock.

He went on to yell at me about a previous tenant who was chemically sensitive and bipolar. When he paused mid-holler, I tried to explain I was not bipolar, but he wasn't interested in what I had to say. He just wanted to rant.

 

He interrupted me, "NO, LET ME FINISH!" and on and on he went about what a pain in the ass his former tenant was and how she threatened to sue him for not providing a chemically-free environment, and then about another tenant who demanded the shared laundry room to be fragrance-free. THEN he said how he could not be around perfumes or colognes either because of his asthma. ???????? What a contradiction.

Where do I find these people? I think I'm a crazy-magnet.

Although he was acting more bipolar than anyone I've ever known, he was also giving me a lot of information. The cottage was not a cottage at all, but an apartment off a garage. LIAR. The washer and dryer was not in my cottage, but housed in a shared area. LIAR. There would be other tenants. LIAR. I was a little disappointed he blatantly lied about nearly everything, but wondered why was he acting so crazy if he, too, did not want to be around perfumes or colognes?

When he finished his rant, I took a deep breath and said very quickly, "I would like to cancel the appointment. Good-bye." I hung up before he could respond. I felt very fortunate I was not in a hurry to find another place to live and so thankful for my house. For all it's inconveniences, it was still safe and mine.

 

This one experience has reminded me how horrid renting can be. Even if I get past all the rental scams in the online classified ads or the frustration of prospective landlords who are too lazy to answer questions, there are always the crazy people imposing their craziness on you as if it's their right. Suppose this guy's insanity didn't rear it's ugly head until after I had moved in? <Shiver>

Even if the landlord is sane, a chemically-sensitive tenant is at the landlord's mercy and they can thoughtlessly contaminate your living space in the blink of an eye. Most of these little cottages I'm looking at are on the property of the landlords. Those who live on the property want control. I had another prospective landlord tell me I could have my rabbit outside as long as his dwelling was not visible. Really? HOW would that be possible?

I think with a bigger house I would have more privacy, but I don't want to be giving someone $1500 or more a month for rent and I'm not really interested in living in a big house anyway. I already have two bathrooms to clean and that is one too many.

So I'm back to considering buying property and building a tiny house. Not sure if this is a good idea, but I'm looking at the options.

Service Day!

It's Service Day once again! Otherwise known as Martin Luther King Jr. Day which President Obama designated as the day we should all come together to volunteer for our communities. I head down to the wetlands trail at the bottom of the hill to pick up garbage left by lazy, thoughtless people misusing and abusing nature. It's quiet. The air is fresh smelling and clean. I do my part without subjecting myself to smelly people.

 

 

It was a cold, frosty day.

 

The morning sun was defrosting much of the ground, but patches of ice remained.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

As beautiful as it was, this made some of the garbage difficult to see.

 

Is it ice or white paper? Hmmm...

 

And much of the garbage was frozen solid to the ground.

 

 

 

 

 

Candy wrappers, napkins, plastic bags, paper bags and a piece of wood. I don't pick up toilet paper. Eeewww...filthy! I wish lazy, uncivilized people would use a toilet before visiting the park OR at the very least BURY IT!

I also found some new trails.

 

 

One from my new neighbor's house which might account for the excessive amount of dog shit all over the trail.

 

I don't pick up dog shit either. Gross.

 

 

Another trail led to a newly constructed fort. With candy wrappers surrounding it, I can guess some neighbor kids must have been feeling energetic.

In year's past, there used to be lots of garbage, old tires, soccer balls, boxes, and I'd drag home several bags of garbage, but there isn't much anymore. Maybe I have made a difference over the years in my own small way?

I think I need a new service day project that involves a little more work.



'Possum Wrangling Retirement...Correction: SEMI-RETIREMENT!

Not a peep out of any opossum since the day after I shipped Santy Claws out to the hinterlands. I'm a little disappointed. I was hoping to catch a second opossum so Santy Claws would have his friend with him. No noise. No sightings. I can only imagine the second opossum must have realize after that first night Santy Claws was missing and went looking for him, leaving for good. Or something else was making the noise and I have no idea what it was.

I hope it's all over. I removed the trap and will soon return it to my neighbor. Hopefully for good.

Well, that lasted a few days!  I notice something is adjusting the netting again so either the friend of Santy Claws was here checking on him or something else knows about the hole. Here we go again! It feels like my fortress is under siege. The Winter War. Last night I put the trap back out there right next to the hole and found nothing to show for my efforts the next morning. So frustrating.

The Hole. Hmmm.... Years ago I hired a crawlspace/insulation person to put screening under the house to keep the critters out. Today, as a last ditch effort to secure the perimeter,  I got desperate, donned a very un-fashionable construction-man jumpsuit, hat, gloves, goggles, boots and using an extension cord with a light bulb on the end of it ventured under the house. Nasty place. It's like evil lives there. Dark, damp, cobwebs with big ugly spiders and remnants of things they've devoured. And then there is the cayenne pepper I've thrown all over in hopes of sanctifying the evil and discouraging the creepy crawlies. Sure enough one of the critters figured out how to bend the screen back to create a nice little hole to slip through. I plugged it up with bricks and readjusted the screen.  I feel fortunate to have survived the expedition.

Then I sneezed for the next hour while my eyes watered uncontrollably. I'm not sure why Santy Claws doesn't care about the cayenne pepper?

Update: Not a peep. I think the war has been won.

'Possum Yummies: Round Eleven

I'm becoming a connoisseur of 'possum delectables.

 

Camping food for the outdoorsy sort.

 

I don't know if the hot dogs are as sweet smelling as the luncheon meat.

 But the marshmallows are!

 

 

 

I added some smelly jelly, but I think that will just make everything sticky.

 

 

What opossum can resist such a feast?

 

I'm leaving the trap where it is. Wish me luck!

 

 

Round Ten

Feeling pretty defeated after two weeks of 'possum wrangling and no opossum to show for it, I called the Wildlife Control company in my area. I got a voice message saying to leave a message. I didn't. I decided I'd call them tomorrow. I had a little more fight left in me although I'm not sure where I got the energy having spent most of the night listening to Santy Claws tap dance underneath my house.

I needed a new plan. I bought some luncheon meat as suggested by my trapper-neighbor. It was either that or marshmallows and luncheon meat was half the price. If I catch the neighbor's cat, he gets a free trip to no where. Not like I haven't fantasized about that! After much contemplation, I selected the "Honey Turkey" flavor thinking Santy Claws would like that best. I ran into my friend at checkout and told her I was grocery shopping for a opossum. A OPOSSUM!!! Unbelievable. She laughed.

I also moved the trap. Obviously it wasn't working at the shed even though that is where a Santy Claws hole is located. I went to the other known hole on the other side of the house next to the driveway and unblocked it, removing all the chicken wire, boulders and boards. The place where I first met Santy Claws. I thought, "It has come full circle...." I unblocked the hole, set up the trap just right so he couldn't get wily and trip it, sprinkled tuna juice and salmon juice all around, and strategically placed the honey turkey front and center on top the apple cores, blueberries, tuna, and bananas that were already in the trap although a little soggy from the last rain. I placed boards over the trap to shield it from the rain. I blocked the shed hole. This was my last hope. If it didn't work, I planned to call Wildlife Control and pay some big bucks to have a brave soul venture into the crawlspace and yank the Santy Claws out by his tail. Why can't I catch a opossum like everyone else? Woe is me.

The great thing about this new set up is it's right under my bedroom window. For the last two weeks I'd been getting up in the middle of the night to peer out the window in hopes of seeing the success of my efforts. It's been exhausting. I hoped instead of hearing hours of tap dancing I would hear a nice big BANG as the trap door closed shut. I left my window open so I wouldn't miss the excitement.

At 11:30pm I awoke to a slight, soft rattling noise. Hmmmm...one is never sure about noises in the middle of the night. I listened and waited. Then another rattle...rattle...rattle...BANG! BANG! BANG! Santy Claws was not too happy about being a prisoner. It sounded like he was annihilating the cage or someone was rolling it down the driveway. I just laid there smiling.

Awww...so cute.

 

I considered letting him sit in that trap until morning as punishment for his bad behavior, but I knew I wouldn't get any sleep. Considering how clever he is, I was afraid he'd somehow figure out how to open the door and sneak out. I wouldn't get another chance for sure. And I wanted to let him loose in the dark so he would feel more comfortable in a strange place.

He was so cute!  Fluffy fat body with a tiny little face and beautiful, beady eyes. When I'd get close to the cage he'd get real still and stare at me. Not a mean bone in his little body. No growling, snarling, hissing or showing of fangs. I kinda wanted to cuddle with him. He also ate all the food so at least he would be full and satisfied when I dumped him out in the middle of no where.



"OK, I ate everything. Now let me out."

At exactly midnight, Santy Claws had a new home about two miles away, up a logging road, in the woods, where I dump all my garden clippings. Lots of places for him to hide and far from a highway. I can't believe I was driving around in the woods at midnight.



A Opossum Possessed! LET ME OUTTA HERE!

Adios, Santy Claws! Don't come back! I'm so happy he's no longer using my insulation for a bed and overjoyed that he was not poisoned and dead under my house. You can't imagine how wonderful I felt! Total satisfaction.

For about a day...the next morning the tapping started again. Santy Claws must have a friend. I need some more Honey Turkey luncheon meat. Maybe I'll buy some marshmallows for his dessert.

The joys of country living.

Santy Claws = 8 Possum Wrangler = 0

Round 9.

How many rounds does one go in boxing before they've lost? I think I've lost, but I haven't given up!

With much disappointment, I dismantled the garbage can traps. On the light blue garbage can I could see little paw prints where Santy Claws was trying to figure out how to get to the food without getting stuck. They were on the rim and about five inches down the inside. He was reaching as far as his little arms could go without falling in. He is definitely an exceptionally smart opossum.

So it's time to get serious. Traps are really expensive. They can be rented from the Humane Society, but, hey, wait a minute! I'm surrounded by hunters and trappers. My neighbor has been bragging to everyone he has trapped at least forty raccoons and opossums in the last year. When I saw him outside today I asked him if he would help me catch my pet opossum that is residing under my house. I added I haven't heard the opossum for a while so he might have left. He said, "Oh, no. Once make themselves at home, they don't leave." I didn't tell him Santy Claws might be dead. So he loaned me his trap!

I hope it works. I put some tasty treats for bait: 1/2 banana and an apple core. Trapper guy said sometimes it doesn't trigger. I'm more worried Santy Claws will get caught because it's been freezing at night. I don't want him to stay out there too long so I think I'll leave my window open and hopefully when the trap snaps, I'll hear it.

I'm excited!!



Ho! Ho! Ho! You can't catch me!

New Year's Resolution: Catch the Santy Claws.