Yesterday I received rather dubious “simplicity” advice: Don’t buy insurance for your living space.
“Renter’s insurance is for materialists,” wrote an acquaintance I’ll call Mr. Fella. “You can always buy more ‘stuff.’ Home insurance doesn’t cover floods or other so-called ‘Acts of God,’ so don’t waste your money.”
I disagree. Unless you have the wherewithal to purchase an emergency wardrobe, to feed yourself, and to repair and/or replace your living quarters, you will find yourself in a pickle. Make it a jar of pickles if you have dependent children or worked from home.
I have had to make an insurance claim only once since moving to the House of Nonsense, but it was a doozy.**
Lightning struck the big, beautiful maple that shaded my bedroom window. I was lucky in two ways. First, the wind was blowing so hard from the north that it didn’t fall directly on my house aka my bedroom aka ME. Second, only half of the tree fell, which meant it didn’t completely destroy the deck. It destroyed just the front of the deck, the gutter and two windows. And scraped the neighbour’s fence, but not enough for him to sue me.
Did I mention this happened just weeks before my first-ever trip to Europe? But because I had insurance, I didn’t have to give up my trip. And I had windows and useable deck when I came home.
Also, buy a radio and an LED lantern, each powered by hand-cranked electric generation. If you only use them once in the next ten years, you’ll still be really glad you had them!
**Thanks to my late, great Aunt Nellie for the term “It was a doozy.”