Landlord
This weekend has confirmed it. We're selling the house. I did consider keeping it. I did a big spreadsheet to work out the value of that, but there was none. And that didn't even require my annual $10K of mental costs to tip the ledger.
I don't want to be a property baron. When it was a possibility, I was thinking about all the jobs I'd need to do around the house to make it tenantable, one of which would have been getting rid of the spider that's lived in the corner of my kitchen window for the past year. It made me sad to think I'd have to evict that poor spider. I think that's when I knew that being a landlord was not for me.
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The woman with the fake tan stepped into my office, sat across from my desk and lit a cigarette.
At least, she would, sometime in the next 20 minutes. Smelling the future has advantages, but precision isn’t one of them.