To buy or not to buy, that is the question...

As a former home owner, it can be a tough pill to swallow going back to renting. Pride of ownership and accomplishment becomes replaced with disdain for landlords and a feeling of 'permanent temporariness' (yes, I just made that up - but I think it works).

For me, it has been two years since I have owned and am attempting to get settled into my third dwelling in that timespan. My first two stops eased the sting of non-ownership a bit by being urban, trendy places to live. The loft I had in the River Market had the best view of the Kansas City skyline you could ask for and my last apartment was brand-spanking new and had so many people my age as residents that it took on a 'Melrose Place-esq' quality.

My new pad, however, is letting that sting back in like a blind goalie. At first glance it doesn't seem bad; magnificent Westwood location, quite quant from the outside, and while a bit dated, a lot of character on the inside.

I had resigned myself to the fact that this was going to be my pad for, at least, the next 6 months. Then, one disaster after another.

Disaster #1
First off, when you look at an apt., you don't usually stick around to see if you can hear the neighbors or not. I assumed that by asking this of the landlord and him assuring me you couldn't, all would be good. Then ten minutes after I get everything moved in I hear, 'THUMP, THUMP, THUMP' across the floor above me – which, to my shocked amazement, was followed by me being able to hear every single word of their conversation. F-U-D-G-E.

Disaster #2
After a fun night of partying it up last weekend, I had just put the perfect punctuaction on the evening with two Baja Chicken Chalupas, and went to bleed the dragon before heading off to bed. I go to flush the toilet and proceed to watch my bathroom flood like the ninth ward. After some quick on-my-feet thinking I turned the water valve off and then decided it would be a great idea to punch the wall in frustration. I spent the next morning fixing the toilet and the hole in the wall above the toilet.

Disaster #3
36 hours after the mini hurricane Katrina in my bathroom, I am sitting in my living room finishing up some late-night free-lance work. It is 1AM and normally I would be in bed. I hear my upstairs neighbor walk from his living room to his bathroom and turn on his shower (he took 11 steps and was humming the theme to Family Guy - once again, I know beacuase I can hear EVERYTHING).

After a few minutes I hear a distinct dripping sound – look up at my wall and it looks like a water feature you could by in the garden section at Home Depot. Yep. The upstairs shower sprung a leak and now is flowing down my wall, on my painting and on my love seat.

That was the last straw.

Now I am faced with a decision. See, I haven't signed a lease yet at this new place (which is a pretty good gauge of how organized this landlord is). Which means I could just bolt and find a new place – but I am really getting that itch to buy and this place is allowing me to do a six month lease. Pretty much nowhere else will allow a six month lease and, let's just face it, moving is expensive and a pain in the ass.

So I guess for now, I am just going to suck it up, pull up the boot straps and take it in corn hole for a while. That is until another pipe breaks or Hurricane Katrina hits - at which point I will most likely go on a violent rampage that will end in a pile of ash and embers at 4810 Holly St.