Recently, I was at Target, and I saw a stainless steel toilet bowl brush.
The first thing that I thought was, “I want that one – it’s so nice and shiny.” Then, I thought, “It’s too expensive – I’ll just buy this plastic one for $2.99.” And I did.
See, stainless steel toilet bowl brushes are designed for home-owners, people who never move, people who do not have to think about spending $15 on something that in a few short months, they will just want to throw away – because who is actually going to lovingly pack up something designed to scrub feces?
I am an unrooted, unfettered, tumbleweed of a girl. I have never owned a home – at the rate I’m going, I may NEVER own a home – and in the past 11+ years, the longest that I’ve ever stayed in one domicile is TWO. ENTIRE. BLISSFUL. YEARS. in a studio in the Wallingford neighborhood in Seattle (in Washington, in the United States, in the world). It was a 1920s building, with crystal doorknobs and coved ceilings and hardwood floors. Shoot, I loved that place.
But prior to that, and ever since then, I have moved every 12 months or less.
My constant moving, nomadic lifestyle, and sporadic homelessness have led to the occasional identity crisis, the random revelation, and the frequent emotional breakdown to my mother.
But while I have a deep soul-ache for a sense of rootedness and home (oh mercy, do I ever), there are a lot of great things that come along with being a gypsy of a renter.
When the hot water heater breaks, someone else fixes it. When the window needs replacing, someone else does it. When the horrible neighbors raise their ugly voices, you just move. When your mom gets cancer, you just head to Colorado. When the housing market crashes, you just don’t even care. You never need to talk about the most boring terms imaginable like “HOA” or “APR” or “HUD” because when you ask yourself “WWJD,” you realize he would just wander the earth loving people*.
Some people think of renting as “throwing money away”; I call renting “exchanging money for freedom and flexibility.”
Maybe someday, I’ll find myself in a situation/season/city where buying a home would make sense – and in that event, I hope that the house has a breakfast nook and plenty of closet space and at least one interior brick wall. But for now, I rent.
And at least this way, I don’t find myself justifying $15 on a toilet bowl brush. Seriously, America.
*Not solid logic when it comes to renting vs. buying. But definitely a truth, in and of itself.