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Hunting Trip Stress
Vegans and hippies won’t enjoy this post.
Friday, I went to a cabin in the woods for a weekend hunting trip with my dad, my brother, and a few other people.
My wife didn’t think it’s a good idea. In fact, she was terrified that I’d walk into the woods and come out in a body bag.
Statistically, it’s safe. Out of 12.5 million hunters, there are only around 100 fatal hunting accidents every year. I think I went hunting for the first time when I was 12, and continued to do so until I was 17, then life started interfering.
That doesn’t matter. By definition phobias aren’t rational. She’s worried and stressing hard.
If she’s had such a hard time with it, why did I go?
First, I asked her six months ago if she’d be all right with the trip. I knew she had some phobias, and have–in fact–tried to make the trip before. Six months ago, she said yes. It was a bit late to back out after I’ve committed to a share of the cabin, bought the bright orange gear, and agreed to drive my brother.
The second reason was more important.
This is one of the few things my dad and I both enjoy. I’m a geek, he’s not. I dig horror and sci-fi, he’s into westerns.
But we both enjoy hunting. The first time he treated me like an adult was the first year we went hunting together, 15 years ago.
My dad taught me to be the man I am. Without him, I have no idea who I’d be or what I’d be doing. My integrity, my work ethic, and my moral code can all be traced to the things he taught me.
This is my chance to spend time with him and have a good time with no TV or whiny kids interfering.
Trading this for a few days of stress at home is something I’m willing to do.
Public Service Announcement: Anger, Children, and Cars
If, in the course of a basic morning, your three-year-old decides that you need to pick out her clothes, even though she’s been handling that every day for months, don’t be surprised if she rejects your first three choices. She’s just being lazy.
If, after you’ve settled on clothes, you tell her to pick out some socks, expect the same behavior. She’ll lie on the living room floor saying “You pick them out” for 20 minutes, only to throw a fit if you don’t pick the ones with fairies. At this point, it’s okay to yell at her. Really.
When she tears them off and throws them across the room, you don’t even have to be gentle when you put them back on and strap her shoes down to keep her socks on.
Then, when you’re walking across the yard, and she refuses because she’s mad, it is again okay to hold her hand to guide assist drag her to the car, but it works best if you are strong enough to keep her suspended above the ground when she tries to sit down to stop you.
Of course, when you get to the car, she’s going to run back to the front door because she can walk by herself.
Literally throwing her into the car at this point isn’t okay. Tempting, but not okay.
As the man said, I told you that so I could tell you this:
It would seem, now, that it would be a good idea to flip the child latch on the door to keep the contrary little brat from escaping while you circle the car to the driver’s door, or worse, slow down for a stop sign. It is a good idea.
The thing to remember is that, in your anger, when the world has gone red and you are cheering on the biological traits that make it nearly impossible to hurt your children, it is easy to stick the screwdriver in the wrong slot in the door and jam your door latch.
When that happens your door won’t close. Your little monster won’t stop aggravating you, and the child who has chosen to play the role of little angel this morning will start getting crabby about the wait. That doesn’t help.
After you throw the kids in the spare car–the car which doesn’t have air conditioning on the hottest day of the year, so far–and get the brats to daycare, the internet can show you what does help.
If, when you close your car door, it bounces back open because the latch is jammed, no amount of poking at it with a screwdriver will fix it. You’ll bleed for no good reason. Grab the door handle and hold it in the open position. Then, when you poke the latch with a screwdriver, it will pop into the correct position with very little effort.
It’s amazing what a door that closes will do for your morning.
Becoming a Landlord
For those of you just tuning in, my mother-in-law died in April.
Since then, we’ve spent nearly every available moment at our inherited house, digging out and cleaning up.
My mother-in-law was a compulsive hoarder. I’m not going to get into the details of her compulsion, but we have–so far–filled a 30 yard dumpster. For perspective, that’s big enough to fit our Ford F150.
Now that the house is approaching the point where we can begin updating and remodeling, I’ve been looking into the requirements to rent it out.
In my city, I need to get a business license that costs $95 per year. This comes with a requirement to allow the city to inspect the property every two years.
Before they will issue the license, I have to take an 8 hour Minnesota Crime Free Multi-Housing Program class that covers tenant screening, lease addendum, evictions, and “etcetera”, followed by a physical audit of the property to ensure minimum security standards.
The lease addendum basically reads “If you are loud, obnoxious, threatening, criminal, intimidating, or doing/dealing drugs, you will be evicted.”
The actual costs to become a landlord are going to be:
- Something under $100 for my wife and I to take the landlord class. The price varies from free to $40, depending on the hosting city.
- $95 per year for the privilege of using our private property to conduct a private transaction with a private individual.
- The remodel. I don’t know what this is going to cost, yet. There’s an unfinished bathroom in the unfinished basement. I’d like to finish both of those, though the basement will never hold a 3rd bedroom, due to code. The entire house need to be painted and have the trim replaced. The dining room and hallway have hardwood floors, hiding under linoleum that was never properly put down. We may need new windows.
If possible, I’d like to keep the project under $20,000. Since we’re not adding a 3rd bedroom, or tearing out the kitchen cabinets, it should be possible.
In the meantime, expect to see a bunch of remodeling and renting related posts coming up.
Expensive Cheese
Saturday morning, I woke up to a room-temperature refrigerator. I dislike drinking milk that’s 40 degrees warmer than I’m used to.
We called the repairman who showed up at 9PM and poked around in the fridge for a bit before announcing that he didn’t have the needed parts in his truck.
The parts came Monday. The next repairman got there Tuesday afternoon. For those of you keeping track at home, that’s nearly 4 days without a refrigerator.
That poor bacon.
Tuesday’s repairman didn’t think highly of Saturday’s. Apparently, the two parts Saturday ordered never go bad at the same time, so he was guessing.
He also didn’t notice the slice of individually wrapped American cheese that had slipped between a shelf and one of the cold-air vents, preventing any air flow at all.
Grr.
I wish I would have noticed that on Saturday. I now own the most expensive cheese in the world. It’s not Pule, which comes in at $616 per pound. This lowly slice of American cheese cost me nearly $200. At one ounce per slice, that’s $3200 per pound. Of course, I’m counting the lost food. My hamburger, eggs, bacon, milk, and mayonnaise are gone, along with every other perishable bit of food we had on hand.
I don’t know how much the repairs cost. Saturday’s visit, minus the parts, was billed at $95. I didn’t see the total for Tuesday’s visit.
We pay for a repair plan through our gas company. For around $15 per month, we get a list of appliances protected. We don’t have to worry about our washer, dryer, water softener, stove, refrigerator, or our sewer main. Assuming Tuesday’s visit was billed the same as Saturday’s, this one repair paid for the plan for an entire year. When you count our sewer main–which backs up with tree roots once a year and costs at least $200 to fix–the repair plan is definitely worth it for us.
When we get tenants in my mother-in-law’s house, we’ll have the repair plan set up there, too.
Do you use any kind of repair plan? How is it working out for you?
Integrity
I’ve spent my entire adult life trying to live to a fairly strict code of behavior.
I don’t cheat. Not at games, in my relationships, on my taxes, nothing. I don’t cut corners or try to get away with things.
The reason isn’t that I’m trying to be some fictional knight in a storybook. It’s been my experience that cutting those corners always seems to be more expensive in the long run, whether it’s fines, lost friends and relationships, or even a general crappiness of life. The people I know who are always trying to get away with stuff or get ahead at someone else’s expense have the least, whether that’s money, friends, loved ones, or happiness.
Living a noble, honorable life has benefits.
I don’t pay fines and penalties often. Just the occasional speeding ticket, but that’s been one in the last 10+ years. Not getting fined for parking in a handicap spot or cheating on my taxes makes it far easier to save my money and build my wealth than constantly handing money over to the government. I’ve got a friend who can’t keep himself away from the justice system. Spending 3 or more months in jail every year makes it hard to keep a job or have a relationship with your family.
My friends know they are my friends. They can count on me and that means I can count on them. They also know that if that equation falls out of balance, it will be over. I only want friends I can count on. If you can’t have my back, or you feel a need to gossip about my life, I don’t want you in it.
My kids have no insecurities about my love. They know I am here for them, no matter what happens. Even if the occasional temper tantrum has them screaming that I clearly hate them, they know better. They know this father’s love is unconditional.
Work trusts me. Last year, I basically created the department I work in my telling my boss that I was sure I could make it work.
I have some badass karma. In general my life if pretty good, and I like to think it’s because I work to be a good person, do good things, and treat the people in my life right.
There are some downsides. Not everyone lives like this and I have problems relating to them. I’m not a sympathetic person to someone who tries to duck out on child support or who has to spend 30 days in the workhouse for trying to hock a stolen stereo. I can come across as a bit self-righteous.
I expect the people in my life to live the same way and treat me the same way. When that fails to happen, those people are nearly always evicted from life.
Life’s too short for people willing to screw you over.
Sometimes, though, that eviction is too complicated to do quickly, cleanly, or easily. That’s can be a turmoil in my life, and I hate turmoil. I don’t normally have to debate the correct course of action. Something is either right or it’s not. If it’s not, I know it and it doesn’t get done. If I have to wonder, then it’s definitely not right.
Every once in a while, I get stuck with a choice between shitty options and that’s where this system fails. Sometimes, no option is good, right, and proper. Every choice has a big downside, and none of the choices are clearly right.
That’s turmoil. Indecisive, emotional, horrible turmoil.
How was your day?