First World Problems

We booked our first rental reservation.

When we bought the upstate house the plan was to come up some weekends and rent it some weekends so we could make money or at the very least make having a vacation home cost neutral. Well, last week marked 4 years since we bought the house and we have yet to rent it. Whoops. In our defense, we were able to afford the house because it was a fixer-upper and there was a lot of work we needed to accomplish before it could be rented. That took us at least a year and a half to accomplish. (Side note 1. The house is no where near “complete.” The project list is never-ending and constantly being added to.  Side note 2. I foolishly believed we’d renovate the entire house in 6 months and as we neared the end of our first summer I was so stressed by how “behind” we were in the process. Shawn quickly told me I was nuts and that there was no way we could accomplish all we wanted to do in 6 months. Truer words have never been spoken.)

The problem was, all the work we were doing and time we were spending at the house made us fall madly in love with it.  We constantly remark that we can’t believe we own it and how lucky we are to call it home. It isn’t just the house. We also love our town and most importantly, our amazing neighbors. We just can’t believe how lucky we are to have landed on a road filled with so many loving, fun, creative, and smart people. I mean it sometimes feels like a fairy-tale. Even our dogs have friends here. (An entire blog post could be dedicated to the love shared between our Marvin and Ginger, the doodle who lives next door. Seriously, a feature film should be made about these two. I digress…)

When I decided to quit my job and we were looking at how we could make it work financially the obvious first step was to try to rent the house. It was kinda a no-brainer. In fact, I’ve been up here for the last two weeks with the primary task of getting a punchlist of chores accomplished and depersonalizing the house a bit so it would be ready for strangers to come have sex in our bed. OK, OK. I know that came out of left field, but seriously I’d be lying if I didn’t mention the fact that A.) That is going to happen and B.) It creeps me out a bit, but C.) I have to get over it.

This weekend I listed the house on Airbnb. I really wanted to take some great photos with the house all clean and sparkling before I listed it, but I also wanted to just get it up on the site.  So I used some old photos we took back in January (hence the Christmas poinsettias on the dinning table) but plan to update the listing this weekend. I am sure once I’ve updated the photos the bookings will just roll in like crazy.  Ha.  Maybe not.

The truth is, I am not sure I want them to. I mean I do, because the money would come in very handy but also I love my house and will miss it. And then I start to feel guilty because I can come up during the week but Shawn can’t. In fact, the first reservation is Memorial Day Weekend and I am going to be in Minneapolis visiting a friend so it is really Shawn who is getting the shaft. A holiday weekend and he’ll be stuck in the city with the dogs on his own. I feel terrible about that. I am the one who quit my job but he is the one making all the sacrifice. He assures me it is fine. (Reason #978 why I have the best husband.)

Blah, blah, blah.  First World Problems.  I feel a bit like a jerk whining about this.  So, I think I’ll stop!


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