Homeowner Misadventures

I live in what is politely called a "townhome condominium." It is not what you would call quality construction. The reason for this is very simple. In an ideal situation, there would be you the homeowner, and the builder. You dictate (and pay for) the requirements and the builder provides your dream home. In a condo situation, you have at least two middle men looking to make money off your little dream home. When a condominium is born, the builder is hired by a developer who is hired by a property manager who sells it to you. The builder is looking to make money, and he cuts corners where he can because the developer, who has no personal stake in the condo, doesn't watch closely. My ceiling joists in non-attic spaces are 30 inches on centers, so my ceiling is swinging low. The developer is trying to make money, so instead of getting decent building materials he pays only for the basic, barely-meets-code materials. My outlets won't hold plugs. The fact is that a brand-new condo has been through three rounds of profit-taking before the first owner even moves in.

Keenly aware that only the miraculous adhesive properties of cheap latex paint keep my humble home from collapsing in on itself, I can't help but get a little ticked at the multitude of large homes going up down the street from my little neighborhood. I know there aren't this many rich people. I get even more irritable when I hear the term "mortgage assistance" for these yuppies who bit off more than they could swallow.

So, perversely, it makes me feel better to read articles like this one from The Atlantic, which postulates that the next slums will be these McMansion neighborhoods. To tell you the truth, I'd be perfectly happy with a 1,000 sq ft downtown apartment in some small city with decent public transportation. At least I'd have someone to complain to if my ceiling started acting like the Sweet Chariot.

And yeah, I read The Atlantic (Monthly). Impressed? You should be.