I’m proud that I was able to purchase property before turning 30. When comparing myself to peers, I feel like I’m progressing in life pretty well. I don’t just mean this in terms of comparing myself to friends and family around the same age, but when actually comparing my life to published national statistics. I’m pretty into that idea. More importantly, I’m pretty happy with the purchase I’ve made. Maybe not always, but most days I feel like it was a good buy. Worthy of my money, my time and effort in maintaining it, and worthy of being the place that I come home to. But that’s not what today’s thing is about.
Today’s thing is about some of the shit that I don’t like about being a home owner. In particular, about being a condo owner. I live on the second floor of a three story condominium building. The building is old, though not that significantly. After all, the city it is in is fairly new. But the building is old enough to have problems, especially given the era it was constructed in. I suppose I could get into it and all, but to keep it short, I’ll just say that the building has problems. Most of the structure is fine. It’s not going to literally fall apart and I generally don’t have to deal with loud neighbors. But some of the infrastructure sucks. In this case, the plumbing sucks. The plumbing kinda really sucks.
No, kinda really is maybe too harsh. I have known plenty of people who have had to deal with constant plumbing issues and… you know what, maybe it does…? I mean, I’ve only had to deal with three shitty plumbing problems, but I’ve also only been there for about three years. That’s way more than I want to deal with, ever. You know what else? I see plumbers in the building all the time. Fuck this place.
Anyway, the current plumbing problem is a real doozy. In essence, in early November my downstairs neighbor started having a problem where water was coming through his bathroom ceiling. We had no idea where it was coming from and our ability to track down the issue wasn’t all that great. Eventually, we determined that the water was coming from my place. But we couldn’t figure out how. I had a professional plumber come out and he pointed out a possible cause. Some of the fixtures in my shower had separated from the walls. This left some pretty big gaps where water could drain through and collect behind the shower. Over time, that water built up enough to start to rot through and trickle down onto their bathrooms ceiling. I fixed my thing and contacted my insurance company about covering the damage to the unit below.
When I went to get the information that my insurance company needed to see if they would cover it, things got confusing and shitty. I soon found out that my shower was not the only one contributing to the downstairs neighbor’s troubles but that at least one other bathroom was draining into theirs. In fact, it was made clear to me by at least one involved party that mine might not have caused any of the damage. And yet, I seem to be the only owner being pursued for resolution. What the fuck is up with that? Furthermore, the owner and occupants have all left town and are only communicating by phone/text/and email. They aren’t even willing to come back and take pictures of the damage because it’s apparently too far away. The fuck is up with that? In fact, when I asked for pictures of the damage to forward to my insure, they sent me a picture of an estimate for the repairs. Look, I want to fucking help you and pay my part, but you gotta help your fuckin’ self.
So now it seems that I have to coordinate this entire damned effort. Generally speaking, I go home to not have to deal with coordinating shit that shouldn’t be my problem in the first place. I wanna go home and play my games and drink my booze and go fuck myself. But no. It’s not good enough to put in a full day’s work at my job, I gotta put in extra credit, call ’cause I got froggy and thought it might be a good idea to be a home owner.
This experience hasn’t yet soured me on the idea of being a home own. Nor is it. Or any other shit-show, for that matter. But I’ll tell ya’ this much, I won’t be moving into another condo again. Not unless it’s own of those fancy-dancy New York-penthouse-assed joints. The ones with the in building garages and keyed elevators and stuffs. Yeah, that would be pretty rad. Otherwise, I think I’ll be saving up to move into a stand alone, single-family joint. Fuck this whole, “I could have a problem because of your unit, you could have a problem ’cause of mine.” Fuck that noise.
tl;dr – I may lose some of my delicious tax return on repairing someone else’s bathroom because the building is old and they live below me. Also: don’t buy a condo unless it’s the kind that the super rich get. Pools and shit. Walk-in freezers. Brass banisters. You know the kind.