house Archives - Frugaling

Ownership Isn’t Real, We Rent This Life

“Nature does not hurry, yet everything is accomplished.”
–Lao Tzu

There was a time when I could describe exactly what my life would look like in 5, 10, 15, and 20 years. It felt so grown up and reassuring. I was the man with the plan.

There was a time when I envisioned a beautiful home with a yard. It had windows overlooking an ocean. It’d be mine. I could wake up to it every day.

There was a time when I owned a car and wanted to buy an even nicer one. I held my smartphone, but wanted a newer one. I was obsessed with latest upgrades and features.

There was a time when I looked at my ratty spiral notebook and needed a chic Moleskine. Imagine what it would be like to write in those acid-free pages and flip open that iconic cover.

Largely, those days of desire without logical reason are dying out. I’m no longer urgently pursuing or planning for material possessions. Nowadays, the white picket fence isn’t for me, and I’ve finally realized why.

Life is exceptionally fragile and short. Think about it, our 70, 80, or 90 years represent but a fraction of the Earth’s existence. We are little blips on this planet, and unrecognizably small objects within this solar system, galaxy, and universe.

From the time we exit the womb, we are bombarded with messages that demand our attention. They don’t stop until we do. All five of our senses are put into warp drive, as they begin to process everything around us. Despite our relative insignificance, we cling to material goods and messages — buying whatever we can afford and socking away the rest for rainy days.

These messages beg us to consume, own, and carve out space. They tell us that, with maturity and income, you should own a residence. We are expected — from employers to families to spouses — to buy a car to get to work. But ownership is a figment of our capitalistic imaginations. In this economy, it’s easy to be pulled into a mental trap of expectations and hopes for a possessive future.

Each step countering the current culture of consumption is like running into a 50-mph headwind — you’re not moving fast. Bucking the status quo means isolating yourself from society’s expectations of amassing wealth. But the reality is we don’t own anything — ever. I mean it!

We are simply temporary custodians — holders — of physical objects that we lug around. We fill containers, storage warehouses, and entire homes with stuff. We bear witness to various forms of mass, but all fade — like us. Even the most prized possessions will transfer to someone else or perish. No matter how much home and life insurance we take out, we will eventually pass away.

Truthfully, we rent this life. It’s not solely ours to destroy, abuse, love, and cherish. We share this rental with everyone. Any rental necessitates respect. Destroy another’s property or object, and you’ll be on the hook to replace and/or fix it.

There’s more to life than amassing more than thy neighbor. Forego the mortgages, down payments, and constant maintenance. Choose a life that honors and recognizes everyone. When we rent this life, we recognize that we are just maintaining it for future generations.

I Just Moved From A Utilitarian Batcave To An Opulent Apartment

By Frugaling 10 Comments

Hope you enjoy this little tour of my old apartment!
(Warning: sarcasm ahead.)

Over the last 7 days I’ve been moving boxes, furniture, and settling into a new abode. I have a terrific roommate and some good friends with me — all in the same complex. We’re one big, amalgamated family. It feels wonderful to be around and supported and having fun with such great people.

But there’s a foreignness to my new residence. Every time I walk into the brand new apartment (for me and the area), it feels opulent and grand. It’s like I’m a little ant, looking up at the big blue sky — captivated and scared by the scale.

My home has wood floors and a stone-tiled bathroom, which reminds me of a hotel room. There’s fresh, soft carpet in the bedroom to greet me in the mornings. Central air and heating insulates me from the inevitable weather extremes of Iowa. A community center features a fitness room, laundry facilities, and regular staff.

As my friends know (and certainly some of my readers), I’m quite class conscious. When I see inequality and/or inequity, I can’t help but comment and try to change it. This new apartment, full of accoutrements and amenities is a reminder of my privilege. And with that, I feel deeply mixed.

The previous couple years were spent in a batcave-like apartment, which was comically awful. I lived 20 feet from an active railroad, 40 feet from a lurking cell tower, and my views were of a crater-filled parking lot. Despite its misgivings, I felt at home; at times, proud of it. I just never wanted to be above it all — separated too greatly from how many live.

Physical separation from more humble surroundings scares me. I worry that if I move to far from poverty, lower incomes, and more modest livelihoods, I could get swept up in craving endlessly. Perhaps more importantly, that this distance may come at the cost of being able to empathize with those who struggle economically — that I wouldn’t be as inclined to give back.

And now, I feel like I’m in a gated community. The demographics have shifted, as families departed as they couldn’t afford the new residences. The multiculturalism that once filled my old neighborhood has significantly changed. It’s evidenced in the growing number of white people and shiny cars.

I’ve joined the economically privileged, and I’m still wrapping my mind around the shift. I feel both honored to have this place, and unsettled by the way privilege begets privilege — a burdensome path and procession of more, greater, bigger, and taller. It feels paradoxical, as there’s great happiness here for my friends and I, and yet the discrepancy between the haves and the have nots has never been greater.

Accidentally Frugal

By Frugaling 14 Comments

When I think of my apartment, a number of things come to mind: gulag, cinderblock castle, bat cave, and my favorite, rectangular ode to communistic utilitarianism. Yes, my home is something special. One of the perks is insulation that never seems sufficient for either hot or cold extremes. In the winter, the bare linoleum floors chill bones — forcing occupants to wear sandals or shoes indoors. The summer brings a respite from the cold, and makes my apartment heat up like a sweat lodge — only, without the nice cedar wood smell.

The summer months bring some wacky weather through the Midwest. This being my third summer in the land of flat, I know that I’m in for hot, sticky days that border on 100 degrees — even overnight. Torrential rainfalls will produce floods and muddied areas, while you get baked throughout the other days. Pretty good if you’re a 4-year-old making mud pies; beyond that, not really quite sure who enjoys it.

I’ve lived in a few areas of the country that don’t really need air conditioning. People may have them attached to the home or in a window, but for the most part, these white boxes stand as decoration to a humble abode. But here in Iowa, air conditioning is a must have.

In August, I’m moving into an apartment complex that is supposed to have built-in, central air conditioning. To prepare for this, I decided to list my air conditioner on Craigslist two days ago. I hastily placed it online — without a picture or many details. It can take a little while to sell things in my city. There aren’t many people here; especially, over the summer.

I fully expected it to take a month to actually sell the unit. I was dead wrong.

Well, Frugaling fans, I’m in for one hellish summer. I just got back from selling my window air conditioning unit in one day. The family I sold it to were incredibly appreciative and kind — even paid me to drive to their place. The man who lifted the AC out from my trunk said, “Boy are we happy to have this right now. It’s only going to get worse and worse this summer.” All I could do was politely smile and nod. Inside, my stomach churned with the anticipatory anxiety of an entire season without it.

Naively, I didn’t think I’d spend an entire summer without air conditioning, but in a way this is all accidentally frugal. Letting go of the air conditioner this early in the summer season feels like trouble, but there are some tremendous benefits.

Reduced utility bill. The summer months can wreak havoc with my careful budget. Oftentimes, the budget is precariously balanced and if there are extended periods of heat, I can see my bill skyrocket. Most of those costs are associated with increased air conditioning use. Without this appliance, I’ll be struggling, but saving every minute that it’s not running.
A family in need is helped. AC units can be expensive and a family (with a pregnant mother) will enjoy the benefits of a cooler house. I’m really happy they were able to use this and save a pretty penny from buying new.
My wallet is padded. I didn’t just do it for purely altruistic reasons, though. I’ll be able to pay off another chunk of debt with this extra cash. Even more than paying off another portion of student loans is the psychological benefit of knowing I’m moving in the right direction — saving and earning. This has been my major goal since starting Frugaling.
Saving the environment. Air conditioners are a drain on energy resources, tax aging infrastructures, and push coal-fired power plants to go into overdrive. Removing the AC will reduce the amount of greenhouse gases I contribute. One of the most frugal things I can recommend is opening windows at night, and then closing them immediately in the morning. Also, put down your blinds. This small step will effectively insulate you from changing temperatures outside. Your apartment will be a nice ice box in comparison to the outside temperature.

Should You Buy Renter’s Insurance?

By Frugaling 7 Comments

Walk into my apartment, and you’ll notice something: There’s hardly anything in it. It’s sparse, austere, and minimalistic; most of all, purposeful. A table, chairs, my bed – not many extras.

I’ve rented for years now, and I’m not sure I ever want to purchase a house. In a previously written article for PTMoney.com, I cataloged the many reasons why I hesitate to buy. Home insurance may never be applicable to me, but what about renter’s insurance?

Multi-Line Discounts

Every time I call Geico to ask for discounts or check my car insurance premiums, a representative suggests a particular “discount” for also having renter’s insurance. Invariably, I ask what that costs. Would having a multi-line discount make my overall bill cheaper? No.

Unfortunately, this multi-line “discount” is simply a marketing ploy to attract non-critical consumers. Do yourself a favor and ignore these enticements.

Fear Factor

…what if your apartment gets burglarized? Or, worse yet, suffers smoke damage in a fire? Some renters may think that everything they have inside their apartments is insured under the landlord’s policy, but that only covers the building itself. (Source)

Renter’s insurance is often motivated by fear of the unknown. A fire, flood, burglar, or any other risk may enter your apartment and destroy what’s rightfully yours. This destruction is not covered by landlords.

If you have a wealth of materials in your house, renter’s insurance may be for you. It’s a hedge against negative events. The insurance company lets you pay a small fraction of the total worth on the actuarial assumption that you won’t need the money.

Minimalism

There’s a way to avoid renter’s insurance, feel safe, and live a comfortable life. The secret is minimalism. This term represents a movement towards the essential; basically, eschewing all that’s superfluous for what really matters.

Minimalism can be a powerful tool to feeling free from worry. If there’s nothing to burn or steal, why do you need renter’s insurance? When I go on vacation or leave my home, I’m comforted by my bare apartment. What could anybody want? What’s the worst that could happen?

Yes, my table, chairs, pictures, and electronics could morph into charcoal and dust if a fire occurred. But I place no value in these inexpensive things that are easily replaceable. They’re not worth a monthly hedge that drains my budget even further.

And if you choose to plaster the walls with pictures of loved ones and heirlooms, there’s a priceless nature to these things. Geico doesn’t care about priceless – nor could they actually replace them.

What Should You Do?

When it comes time to consider renter’s insurance, take a critical eye to this apparent money saver. Potentially, it may drain your budget, while making you feel safe.

The decision is yours.

Just know that safety doesn’t always need to be purchased. Sometimes, it takes a philosophical change, instead. That’s where minimalism can help.

Ownership Isn’t Real, We Rent This Life

Accidentally Frugal