end of the country’s rental demand.
You’ve heard the numbers. In 2018,
Toronto and Vancouver’s vacancy rates
were sitting at around 1 per cent, but
the problem is far more widespread.
The same year, Prince Edward Island’s
available rental stock for a three-
bedroom apartment was zero. You
read that right. With a national vacancy
rate of 2.4 per cent at last count, we
have a coast-to-coast renting crisis.
Meanwhile, longtime homeowners
such as myself rattle around in our
Miss Havisham manors, empty now
with the kids grown.
I’d like to say that guilt over my
greedy set-up is why I opened Mrs.
Bradbury’s Boarding House, but the
truth is I was having trouble sleeping.
The house had been broken into twice,
the second time in mid-afternoon as I
sorted bills at the dining-room table.
My bag was on the window ledge, and
the thief hoisted himself halfway
through the open window before he
saw me sitting there. He paused, cal-
culated his timing, and grabbed my
bag before I could lunge from my chair.
I have to say I admired his follow-
through. I didn’t know whether to call
for help or ask for his resumé.
After that, I woke up thinking how
sad it would be to be murdered. Finding
a boarder was a solution to a practical
problem. I needed a good night’s sleep.MY DECISION TO take in roomers was
not met with widespread approval.
“Mom. No.” My daughter Mary was
alarmed by my lack of self-knowledge.
I was letting her old room and needed
her to box up her kindergarten art
projects. “You don’t even like people,”
Mary continued. “You especially don’t
like people in your own space. Who
make messes. And talk to you.” Per-
haps I had once or twice terrorized
Mary’s friends who specialized in all
of the above. I may have been known
as Scary Mommy for a couple of their
teenage years.
Laura, my sister who lives nearby,
worried about safety. She didn’t get
the concept of taking in roomers so I
wouldn’t be murdered. Opening my
house was opening myself to the vaga-
ries of the universe. “What you want
is a graduate student,” she decided.
“Quiet, female. Try U of T housing.”
Clear ground rules came up a lot with
friends pondering something similar:
the living room’s off limits, assign food
shelves, no talking in the morning—
especially not to me, apparently.
Worse than the character analysis
was the pitiless mockery. Think ofMY SISTER DIDN’T
GET THE CONCEPT OF
TAKING IN ROOMERS
SO THAT I WOULDN’T
BE MURDERED.rd.ca 59