I’m not complaining. Things could be worse.
I really don’t mind paying $1,500 a month for my 900-square-foot one-bedroom mobile home here in Pagosa Springs. My cat, Roscoe, seems to like the place. He’s not complaining either. (Unless his food dish is empty.)
Things could be worse. I could be paying $1,700 a month for an 800-square-foot one-bedroom apartment, up a flight of stairs, like my friend Derek.
(Although, to be fair, Derek has covered parking, which I don’t have.)
I used to live in a 1,200-square-foot two-bedroom condo, with a mortgage payment of $950 a month, and I shared the expenses with Darlene, my wife at the time.
But Darlene and Roscoe didn’t get along, and I had to choose.
Really, though, I’m not complaining. Things could be worse.
And I truly expect things to get worse. Does that make me a pessimist? I prefer the label, “realist.” A pessimist thinks the glass is half empty. An optimist thinks the glass is half full. A realist just drinks the water, when he’s thirsty. And doesn’t complain. (He doesn’t complain, especially if it’s beer instead of water.)
A one-bedroom mobile home like mine, in other mountain resort towns like Aspen and Vail, might rent for $3,000 a month. Seems like that’s the general direction things are going in Pagosa Springs. Which means, right now, I have it pretty easy, compared to how I will have it in the future.
Roscoe seems to agree that our life is good, for the time being. Or I should say, he doesn’t cross-examine me and demand evidence that our life is good, the way Darlene used to do.
The main reason I’m not complaining is, I came across a story in The Atlantic magazine. Associated Press photographer Kin Cheung had spent time, back in 2017, documenting the people living in tiny subdivided housing units in Hong Kong. This type of housing translates into English as “coffin homes”… or, if you prefer, “shoebox homes”…
The article states there are an estimated 200,000 people in Hong Kong living in these tiny subdivided units, some so small that a person cannot even fully stretch out their legs.
You do not want to own a big screen TV in Hong Kong.
Not that I own a big screen TV. (Darlene got it in the divorce.) I get by pretty well with a laptop and a Disney+ subscription. But that doesn’t mean I want to end up living in a 4×8 foot “shoebox home” like the folks in one of the wealthiest cities in the world: Hong Kong. Or worse yet, a “coffin home”.
For the time being, Roscoe and I are pretty comfortable, even though the mobile home is way too expensive for what you get. (Like, where’s my covered parking?) So we don’t eat out too often. We don’t throw a lot of parties. We avoid intimate relationships.
Or maybe, intimate relationships avoid us. Hard to tell.
When my mom and dad were my age, they bought a new house that was three times larger than their old house.
I’ve now moved into a house that’s three times smaller than their old house.
But I’m not complaining. I can still fully stretch out my legs.