Miami Can’t be Behind me Soon Enough

The house hunt is going forward.

It seems like you have to be a…I’m looking for a PG-rated term…an ASSERTIVE PERSON to get anything done in real estate. I had to get on my realtor this week. Week before last, I said I wanted to get up to Marion County and look at some properties, he asked for time off because his mother was visiting. We agreed to get together this week. I emailed him a day or two ago, and he said he wanted to wait another two weeks because he was busy.

Uh…didn’t we already discuss that? Shouldn’t the reason you’re busy be me?

Anyway, I complained, and he agreed to show me places next week.

I’m going alone this time. My dad is no longer interested in making decisions, so he won’t be tagging along. He’ll buy any place I choose. That’s a huge change, from a person who used to flip out if I said he needed to spend $500 to fix his sidewalk.

It’s very odd, suddenly finding myself in charge of wealth someone else worked for all his life. It wouldn’t be so odd if he were gone, because my mistakes wouldn’t endanger him. As it is, I have to think very carefully about everything I do. I suppose I should think very carefully about decisions that only involve me, and I try to, but the pressure is not the same.

I’m learning a lot about taxes and investing. From time to time I call his accountant up with an idea that occurred to me, to see if it will save him money. So far that has worked out well. It’s strange, because I don’t come up with many ideas to save myself money. I’m doing better managing his wealth than my own.

Even after looking at homes for three months, it’s hard to be sure what I want. Houses that are remote, where I can have a great workshop and not have to worry about BLM, La Raza, or GLAAD marching down my street to tell me what I owe them, are very tempting, but they will be slow to appreciate, and I’ll have to be content living a good ways off from grocery stores, theaters, and so on. Houses that are closer in would provide more convenience, but I would feel obligated to socialize and mix with horse people. I don’t want that at all. I don’t give a crap about horses, country clubs, homeowners’ associations, or seeing other human beings more than once or twice a week. I don’t want idiots showing up at my door with fake grins, saying things like, “We’re from the Boosters Club, and we were just thinking you might be a LOT happier without that Bobcat parked in your yard.”

I would want to buy special boots just to kick people like that in the rear end.

Let’s be real. I’m leaving Miami to get away from jerks and meddlers. I am not going to be happy if I have busybody neighbors leaning over my fence, measuring my grass to see if it’s short enough.

Wow. Just writing about this helps me clear things up. I don’t want people bothering me. The remote places look better now.

I guess I’m getting very weird in my old age, but I’m excited about spending the rest of my life by myself, welding, machining, woodworking, writing, and fooling with electronics. When I say “by myself,” I don’t mean I wouldn’t want a wife, but I would not want to be very social.

I would love to have 300 acres up near the Georgia border. It would be great to have to drive half a mile from my house to see someone else’s land. I want to be frugal with my dad’s resources, though. The more he sinks into a new home, the less he will have left to generate income.

Sometimes I sit and look at properties in Appalachia. I would love to live there. The attachment never dies. Unfortunately, the problems with racism and ignorance would make it hard to find a location where I could be happy.

It’s funny; the sudden open animosity toward white people and Christians makes me afraid to live too close to cities and areas where minorities are concentrated, but at the same time, I could not go back to Eastern Kentucky and hear the N-word ten times a day. Sometimes I ask myself whether it’s better to live among white racists who would look out for me, or near minority racists who would try to harm me.

America seems to be getting cramped. Big properties are being sliced up. Controlling liberal freaks are showing up and trying to take over places where people used to feel safe from them. Can you open a bakery in Johnson City, Tennessee or Dalton, Georgia without anti-Christian gays seeking you out to force you to bake cakes? I wonder. Could I join a bar association in any state if they found out I’m a Bible-believing Christian?

I have this feeling I should stay in Florida because of my law license, but I think I would rather work at Home Depot than practice again. Assuming I could pass the Home Depot sensitivity tests. I don’t think I’ll ever practice law in the future. Maybe I should be thinking about moving out of this state.

Tennessee doesn’t look too bad. It hasn’t become packed with Miami vacation rabble, and they have no income tax.

Miami is starting to be truly unpleasant. All sorts of people are moving here, and I can’t even figure out where they’re from. They’re generally Hispanic. I think a lot of them may be South Americans. Hispanics have a habit of ruining their own countries and moving here to escape. They’re jamming themselves into the south end of the county, and that means the roads down here are buried in new traffic. Condos are going up all over South Dade. Extremely ugly high-rises are going up west of downtown.

The new people are not inspiring. I don’t think their countries are sending us their best. Lots of stretch pants on the women, and by “stretch pants,” I mean, basically, stockings without pants. Lots of orange hair. Cheap wigs. Pounds and pounds of makeup. Acres of convict tattoos. Convict hairstyles. Daisy Dukes so short and tight they seem to be injuring women’s crotches. Large masses of upper-thigh cellulite waving in the air. Every fingernail is an artistic statement in at least two colors. Belts are rarely seen on the young men.

Sometimes I see a woman pass by, and I think, “That HAS to be a prostitute.”

They don’t look like Cubans. I wonder who they are.

It’s working out well for me financially. My father had to buy my sister out of her house to keep the city from demolishing it, and we had to remodel it. The value of the property has gone up about 70% since then, not including the return on renovation. We are being forced to sell it. The value is so far ahead of rental prices, it makes no sense to keep it. Everything else we own down here is going up, too.

I think we’re in a bubble, so I would like to sell whatever I can and put the money in properties upstate. Let someone else hold the bag when the bubble pops.

I’m not the only one who wants out. Today a waitress told me she ended up in Miami because of “bad decisions.” She said she had a master’s degree in something useful (not English or history), and that she had to wait tables because her Spanish wasn’t good. She has three kids to support on her own. She said her Spanish was the problem, but non-Hispanics face discrimination here even when they’re bilingual.

At least she’s not black. God help a black person trying to get a job in Miami.

To get back to me, I suspect I find it hard to choose a place to go because of my beliefs. A Christian can’t be truly at home anywhere these days. The freaks and persecutors are spreading like black mold. They’re not content with tolerance. They literally want us to disappear.

I hope my search ends soon.