Trying To Buy A Frickin’ House in Ontario These Days

I have always owned a house - 45 years of my life owning a house. In 2016, I sold my last home, my principle residence which was in Panama. Then I decided to follow my roots back to southern Ontario and take time to ponder where I wanted my adventuresome soul to lure me to next.

Well, the net that gathers wonderful friendships was quickly thrown over me and I was pulled into the best book club one could imagine - flat out fun, clever, supportive, beautiful, experienced women.

My wretched journey as a renter in a town with only .5% vacancy began.  Toronto had discovered my hometown and put a lock on affordable housing. I decided that finding a shared, inexpensive live-in apartment would be the only arrangement that I could afford which still allow me to travel out of Ontario’s wretched winters while paying a second rent in order to keep warm in the tropics.

Over the next three years I dragged my rapidly shrinking stash of stuff on a journey through five rentals - all owned and usually occupied by stone-heads, drunks, sneaks, or conniving bullies who pretended to know and practice the art of being good landlords.

Wow - what a bitchin', un-Zen experience.

So, I had a meeting with myself to figure out a way to become independent again - i.e. find an

‘affordable’ house which now meant a minimum investment of $350,000. Bloody hell!

Normally I am not one to fib, but when you play poker with the banks today where the old rules at least gave you a chance were no longer the rules applied. The new ones have been sprayed to death with financial pesticides and these new GMO’ed rules are beyond one’s comprehension. I found myself a creative born-again flat-out liar.

I lied my way around their endless list. One of the rules is that you cannot move any money around once you have started working with one of the tainted brokers (yup - the bankers brushed me off as quickly as you read this sentence). My storey was that after I sold my home in Panama, I buried a large stash of gold coins in a secret place due to the number of countries that had recently collapsed financially and due to a redhead named Donald (or, was it a bridge loan from a secret lender? Can’t remember.)

Some other rules I simply couldn’t get around, are that you cannot borrow from a friend; you cannot count the income from the sale of your principle residence; you cannot take into account the amazing income you made before the past two years wheeling and dealing in pot stocks; and your future income from renting out the new house’s basement? Nope - nothing counts cause nothing made by an entrepreneur is approved by the rubber stamp man .. . . . Annnnnd, then they will likely knock you out at the knees by asking you to cough up a co-signer who, if it is your kid who lives out of Canada, is ruled out. F- -king hell.

To wind this sad tale up, they won - even though I actually had a winning hand for a smart lender.

M

P.S. if you are in my hometown and looking for an amazing house sitter or tenant - you know how to find me.

P.P.S. Oh boy - look what I found! The cute little cabin on the left is for rent and it says by the door that a light is included! Jeeze Louise - everybody is jumping on the bandwagon.