So, despite my initial curmudgeonly reaction to my house being sold, I have over recent weeks reassessed my viewpoint on the whole deal.
This is a beautiful house that desperately needed some care, and the new owners are providing it. If they hadn't come along when they did, the damage would likely be so extensive in a few years that the house would be a tear-down. So, I'm happy about that. I'm also happy that the new owners didn't tear it down now to build a faux-chateau townhouse. When it's all said and done, yes, my rent may go up, and it may be more than I want to pay, but the house needed this work.
For the past few days, there've been men at my house fixing the foundation. The nerd in me loves checking out the equipment and attempting to stare into all of the large gopher holes that have been dug around my house. One thing of which I am not a fan - they actually started this work two weeks ago and then stopped, but not before digging a massive hole in front of my front door. For the last few weeks I've been walking on a plywood ramp and am constantly terrified that it will give out, and I will fall down into the whole like Alice in Wonderland. (Pretty sure that there are only ants down in that hole rather than drugged-up caterpillars and croquet games played with flamingos.)
Today, as I was steeling myself for week three of feeling like a circus performer, I stood inside the front door, turned the knob, pulled, and exploded in laughter at what happened next.
My front door no longer opens - you know, because the foundation's being adjusted. I suppose that solves the whole 'fearful to walk outside my front door' issue. ;-)
(And no worries, I've also got a back door, and if that fails for some reason, I can always call the property management company.)