Saturday, Oct. 22, 2022 - 11:09 am.
Another week, another house that we didn't buy. This one was beautifully designed (though with too much space for my taste) and had *the* kitchen we've always wanted. We almost bought it. We almost made the offer they wanted, but then we just made the offer that we could. Of course it got rejected.
It's easy to get carried away when you think you "have" the money. But we quickly snapped out of it. It's just the bank that will lend it us, with an interest so high that by the time we've paid off the debt in 25 more years (assuming we're still alive), that overall payment would be the equivalent to having bought two houses.
Most immediately, we could barely afford the down payment. It'd be an effort that would leave us without emergency funds. Plus, half of our combined income would be directed to the monthly payment, not looking good even adjusted for inflation (look at me using fancy terms!). No, thanks.
Also, the people selling the house were rich. There's a specific name for people like that guy and his wife in this region. He was white, rich, older, an engineer and entrepreneur. His family was only moving out to a bigger house because they -he- needed more parking space. Jesus Fucking Christ. He had four cars and a motorcycle, and he kept bringing in other cars for parts.
This house is in the neighborhood that we want, a house in this neighborhood with no major renovations would be affordable and perfect for us. The way this house was redesgined, though, they had three electric gates, two dining rooms, and two living rooms. The three TVs throughout the house were on, all on different channels and muted; I do not understand that shit. I love houses with space and lots of lights coming in, but the amount of space was ridiculous and I was concerned how we'd fill it in.
These were WEIRD people. White, Educated, Rich, Industrialized, and Democratic. Kidding, this is just a Psychology term. The guy was white and rich, but had the typical face of a low-key fascist, and I say typical because a lot of horrible people have that White European look in this region (some descend from literal Nazis and have carried on the underlying ideology adapted to our times).
I was carrying my bag with a rainbow flag pin, and I turned around the bag so he wouldn't notice it. Just in case.
Also, these cars he brings in, they're imported cars from Japan(!) to get parts for racing cars. Racing cars. I had a friend who lived behind a street where they race these cars at night. It was unsafe and loud, they leave litter everywhere, a nightmare. And these are rich kids and/or narcotraffickers, so the police will never stop them. So I bet this man thinks he's a good person, and he seemed nice enough, but there he goes grwing that industry that he considers just good, clean fun.
You can tell I had a lot of feelings about these people. I'm pretty sensitive when I interact with people from a higher socioeconomic status than me. I don't interact with them too often, and our friend K is the only one in that category. It's not resentment, I don't envy what they have, some things are nice but often it's too much and at the expense of others. So I'm very sensitive to the entitled, comfortable, individualistic worldview that often comes with owning too much. It's not harmless.
Anyway, let's fucking move on. The house was beautiful, but I'm OK with not putting a financial noose over my neck. We'll keep saving and another house will come along for us. We are not in a hurry.
Andrew and I are going to Valparaiso this week for the National Psych Conference. This three-day event is always a mess, and here we go, traveling by bus for 9-10 hours by night, because getting there (and coming back from) by plane meant taking that plane and two other buses. At least we're staying at a fancy hotel with a view to the ocean. That is the fucking dream.
Also, I've been writing a bit again: (1) two short stories for an anthology, though I'm not sure they'll be accepted; (2) and a column on comprehensive sex education. I often feel like writing fiction again, but my time and energy are limited, and no one cares, so it's not worth the effort. I mean, no one caring hasn't stopped me before, but this becomes more relevant if I have to sacrifice time and energy to write when I have other things to do, like having a life.
There's more to say about work and family, but to be brief: work abounds and I'm surprisingly motivated, and my family is OK, all things considered (health issues, authoritarianism, etc.).
Also, Helen bought a plane ticket just to see me in December when I go to my home country. Despite my own qualms, I go feral on my desires for her here and there. I told Andrew about Helen's plans, and all he said was he'll think what he can buy in North America so she can receive the package at home and then hand it to me so I can bring it to him. That's all the daisy chain we'll be performing, thanks.