An Unexpected Journey
Upon learning that I would be moving on from the country home on six acres that I have rented for the last six years, I began looking at my options. So naturally I started down the path of least resistance and looked at buying some land to build on, or maybe a fixer upper seeing as I’m pretty handy.
This turned out to be a very eye opening experience. Frustration set in quickly as I realized not only the price of land is outrageous, but the county I live in had recently doubled the cost of a building permit. Yes, just for the privilege of stamping a piece of paper stating you may now pour your blood, sweat and tears into producing a structure, you get to pay an outrageous sum of money.
I'm not going to say the sum of money because the amount isn't the point and the comments would be filled with comments like, 'That's not so bad, you should try to build here.'
The point is, it's an piece of paper allowing you to build. They should be paying me to build there seeing as they are going to profit more than me from the house I build and will seize it from me if I fail to pay the annual taxes.
Convictions that I have held for decades began to surface. When I rented houses and apartments I enriched another and built their dreams of financial freedom. When I ‘owned’ homes I often contemplated the faceless machine that had seen fit to grant me the privilege of a mortgage. The algorithm that had crunched the numbers of my life and produced a paper ticket that said ‘qualified.’
I was qualified. Praise be. I was qualified.
But, what was I qualified for? What rarified club had I just become a part of? The smiles and handshakes must have meant something special had just happened. As the ink that spelled out my signature dried on the documents I couldn’t even feel the harness slip over my shoulders. When I smiled with pride I never felt the bit go in my mouth and I even allowed myself to believe it was me that turned my own head, when in fact, the corporation that now owned me held the reigns and turned me any which way but loose. When they smiled and shook my hand I never felt the shackles snap onto my wrist and I never heard the ratcheting of the metal teeth as they were snugged tightly around my wrists.
I was now the proud ‘owner’ of an object of monetary interest living under the illusion that it was mine. The bankers had had the foresight to front load their mortgage so they were paid all of their interest owed up front. Years of interest before the principal amount was ever touched by my payments. Where were they when the grass needed to be cut? They owned that house as much as me.
I thought I got a great deal on that house. But guess who got the better end of the deal?
Have a good one,
iNomad aka @TheBugIQ
