We are renting the biggest part of an old frame house in a shore town in Connecticut. We are a walk from great coffee shops and even a little movie theater that shows first-run films.
We rent because we took not a bath but a substantial shower when we sold our last house, and neither one of us wanted to sink more money into a place than we would make when we pull out. Plus, we fancy ourselves trendsetters, but turns out old farts renting isn’t all that new a thing.
During our first year at this place, the former living room and sun room of the house, which was built by our landlady’s grandparents, was given over to an office for an oil company owned by our landlady and her husband.
I cannot say enough nice things about these folks. They are quick when we have questions, and we pay our rent on time. What’s not to like?
So last night, the landlady knocked on the door with a proposition. They sold the oil company a few months ago, and tried to rent out the little office, without much success. They’re thinking about tearing down the walls that separate our apartment from the office, and they wondered if we’d like to have the two extra rooms, all while paying the same rent.
Would we? We said we’d think about it, and took roughly four minutes to do so.
Funny thing is, we’ve offloaded most of our furniture and don’t actually have the stuff to fill up the extra rooms. (Not to worry, I kept the two chicken lamps, including the one pictured above.) The weird thing is we’re hesitant to buy more stuff, because that’s how it starts, you know. We spent our 30s 40s, and some of our 50s accumulating stuff, and then we moved (two times in one six-week period last summer) and gave away or threw out enough for another house and I have to admit, it felt good to offload and we’ve both been very careful about our purchases.
What a weird place to be.