Blog: A Rental House

Burt Ross

A rental house is not your home. They say “there is no place like home for the holidays,” and those of us who are spending the holidays in a rental house know that all too well.

Now, don’t get me wrong. I am not complaining. I have a fine rental house, but any rental house presents some challenges. 

For one thing I, like most men my age, do get up in the wee hours of the morning. In my former home, I knew exactly where the bathroom was and could go there in my sleep, which is precisely what I did. In my rental house, I run the risk of making a left when I should be making a right and before I know it, I am in the kitchen, which is not really the place I ought to be.

Another problem with a rental house is that, despite its being furnished, there are always a few important items missing. My landlord has a sign clearly marking her wine, and I would not even think of indulging. I have my own stock (one bottle of Pinot Grigio from Pavilions), and I incorrectly assumed that a connoisseur would most assuredly have a corkscrew on the premises.

I searched the house more thoroughly than a child looks for the matzoh on Passover. I looked everywhere but under the bed. You would have thought I had a serious drinking problem. I was on a mission and couldn’t get to a store fast enough to solve this dilemma.

Then there are items in a rental house that don’t perform up to my expectations. In particular, there is a scale in the master bedroom which strongly needs a lesson in manners. The first few days I was quite impressed with the good news the scale was delivering. Each morning the scale told me I was several pounds lighter than the tightness of my pants indicated.  Perhaps all this trauma of losing a home meant I would be losing some weight. This could be my silver lining.

Realizing that I was trimming down, I decided to gorge myself. I ate everything in sight and, quite frankly, enjoyed it all. The next morning, I weighed myself and I had gained five pounds. That dastardly scale! I had come to think of that instrument of weighing as my personal friend to be stepped on each morning. To find the scale was every bit as objective as all the other scales was most disillusioning.

So, I can’t wait to rebuild my home where I will know where the bathroom is at all times, a  corkscrew will be out in the open, and my scale will be consistent and hopefully will tell me what I want to hear each morning.