(andrew's manifesto)

Ever since I fell out of the nest, I've had a hard time paying rent, but not because I couldn't afford it. I just plain don't like the idea of paying someone else several hundred dollars per month to stay in their house. There are a lot of other investments I'd like to spend my hard-earned coin on, one of which is to be the proud proprietor my own piece of land. Briefly, my humble vision is to own a couple of arable acres on which I can experiment with living sustainably. A garden, an orchard, some livestock, and an energy-efficient, cozy house. But to embark on this investment, one, I need a stable source of income, two, a decent down payment, and three, a hefty loan. As a young person trying to find and establish himself in a fulfilling career under the current economic circumstances, the first two won't be in reach for a few years down the road, meaning getting approved for that hefty loan is out of the question as well. So my vision of property ownership will just have to wait. But for how long [anguish]! So I've asked myself what concessions I'm willing to make to drum up the kind of capital necessary for property ownership. Where can I trim the fat? It sure would be nice to not have to pay rent. Renting a room for $500/month for a year is $6000 bucks not including utilities! There's only one way to really respond to this fact: WTF! $6000 plus dollars and in the end you own nothing.

Unfortunately there aren’t many ways you can avoid paying rent without feeling like a total mooch or a sketchball...
I tested a few methods: couch surfing, living in my Honda Civic hatchback, camping on unoccupied land, and bartering for housing. I don't regret experimenting with these lifestyles, but I didn't enjoy living in these ways. Not only was I uncomfortable imposing on friends and strangers, but I found that I wasn't taking care of myself properly. I never felt entitled to use the kitchen or the bathroom or other communal spaces as I would if I were an equal, rent-paying household member. When living out of my car or camping, I felt I had to sneak around. I wasn't sleeping well. Cooking and bathroom necessities were a serious challenge. Sometimes I was chased off by the police. Once, someone even tried to break into my car until they realized I was sleeping inside. As a result of all this, I didn't feel up to maintaining much of a social life. The ladies paid me no attention. On the other hand, I learned plenty of tricks and had some hilarious experiences. But in the end, I was a homeless dude on my way to insanity and that was not okay with me.

So I went crawling back inside the proverbial box, bitterly writing my monthly rent checks to the man, right? Wrong! How could I?! It's just not an efficient way to realize my dream of property ownership and low-impact living. My time as a homeless man taught me a bit about what my needs really are when it comes to housing. I find that most apartments offer too much space and amenities, which must be heated, cooled, lit, and maintained. I don’t need to pay for all of that luxury. And not only is it bad for my pocketbook, but it’s bad for our environment. When I live in traditional apartments I use more energy, water, and space than I actually need. The impact is transferred down the line, feeding into all sorts of issues that I want no part of: climate change, pollution, loss of habitat/biodiversity. I want to live as lightly as I can because I value the high quality of life that a healthy environment offers. As a renter, it’s not easy to experiment with energy saving measures, composting toilets, solar energy and hot water heating, grey water reuse, lighting, better insulation because you are not invested in the property. For example, why go through the trouble and expense to install solar panels and tie them to the grid if you’re going to move to another place in a year.

So what's my answer to the madness? I think I’ve nailed it my friends. I'm going to build a house on wheels. This answers so many of my concerns. It will be like owning my own piece of mobile property. Now instead of paying someone else to house me, I pay myself. Not only will I save on rent and utilities, but the structure itself will be of value if Elissa and I ever decide to sell it. It allows me to experiment with sustainable living and manage my footprint. I will have an instant home wherever I decide to move, whether that be for work or pleasure. Ideally I will be able to strategically locate that home close to work so that I can easily bus, bike, or walk, eliminating the cost and environmental impact of driving a personal vehicle. Are there challenges to be addressed? Definitely. Namely, where are we going to park our house and can we adjust to living in an 84 square foot space. The former doesn’t give me much pause. I believe there are many gracious folks out there who would host a good-natured couple and their grand experiment. Our house will not be an ugly fiberglass box of a travel trailer, it will be a finished, quaint, self-contained cabin. It should easily fit into a spacious backyard or field. However, adjusting to the size of our house may be a bit more difficult, particularly because now both Elissa and I will be residing within. Those concerns, however, pale in magnitude compared to the endless benefits of being free from the renter’s dilemma.