by Al Heavens
I'd hate to be a landlord.
I had the opportunity once. In 1987 we were unable to sell our first house for several months after we'd acquired our second, and we briefly considered getting into the business.
The first house had been built in 1848, and I had spent six years and $30,000 trying to undo all the dumb things previous owners had done in the name of renovation and modernization.
The new house, built in 1904 and three times bigger than the first, need 10 times more work.
We were hoping to use the profit on the sale of the first to rehab the second. But the market was souring, we were around the corner from the worst housing project in the city and our first listing agent didn't seem in any hurry to move the property.
We tightened our belts, prepared to juggle two mortgages (one 13.5 percent, the other 10 percent) and prayed that nothing serious would go wrong with either house before we sold number one.
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