I had a landlord who liked to talk about money. He had a theory about real estate trends. According to him, the market dipped every ten to twelve years and that was the best time to buy property. It was always the same when we talked. It was like we never talked before. It was money, money, money.
His desire for money struck me as wrong being that he was a pastor of a Christian church. What added to my disgust was that I knew he was going to jack my rent up at first opportunity. Some Chriatain.
I'm forever thankful to the man though. If it weren't for his overt greed, I'd never gotten angry enough to move out of his beat up bungalow and build a cabin on the cheap. I didn't want to give him half my income for the rent anymore. I sacrificed time and energy for that money. Having to navigate through the wing-clipped personalities of my fellow workers was enough to bring me down. We're all wing-clipped in some way or another, but still.
I drove by my old place the other day. It looks the same seven years later. It still needs paint, and it still looks shabby. It made me think about the landlord and his disease. It's a disease lots of landlords have, chosing money over people. It's the sad reality of the sick mind. Money over people. Money over everything.
