Having a landlord is great - as long as you have the right landlord.
When Laura was just about ready to pop with our first kid, we decided that getting out of the twenty second floor of the ant hill we called home would be a good idea.
We found the perfect place. It had two bedrooms and was in a great part of town.
The landlord?
He wasn’t having any of it.
I’ve got another spot. It’s a bit further east. It’s a whole house. With the baby coming it might be a better spot for the two of ya.
His lilt was dazzling. From northern Ireland, Mick was a blue eyed salt and pepper delight.
We have a lot of spots around town. It’s the family business…
We figured Mick was IRA.
Maybe not.
But ‘family business’?
Cash only payments of rent?
And if we talked to him about Ireland?
He changed the subject quickly.
I figured he killed a few people, made a few bombs back in the day.
Maybe not.
But it was a fun fantasy to have.
We took the house.
The place was tired and old.
Do what you want with it.
I learned to run wires and add circuits to the panel.
I learned how to do flooring and trim.
And, given my lack of impulse control and bouts of insomnia rage, I learned to fix plaster and lathe as well.
I also learned what makes a great landlord.
Sure, Mick was slow and lax with the cosmetic repairs.
I’m going to tear the place down when you’re done with it.
But when the washing machine broke, he was there with a new to him replacement on the same day.
You’ve got wee ones. Can’t have you there with little ones and no laundry.
Eventually, I became the home owner. I became the ‘Mick’
And when the dishwasher broke?
I fixed or replaced it.
Same with the laundry.
These days, if my mother in law is any indication, it’s tough to get appliances delivered and installed on the same day.
It’s a shame that’s the case.
You never really realize how much you rely on these appliances till they are gone.
I guess the same holds for landlords.
And friends.
And parents.
And?