Since this is the annual home-themed issue of the Arcadia News, and since I just recently purchased my first house, we're fitting in here like Tabasco and gumbo for this month's edition of "Straight Up."

I have been renting for almost 15 years. A long time ago, when my friend Erich made the mature decision to buy his own house at 21-years-old, I naturally did the immature thing and rented a room from him to help offset his mortgage. Since then, it was a series of apartments, dorm rooms, houses and model homes that I called home. I once moved 5 times in one year. It was high time to grow some roots.

So I settled in a little house in Arcadia. In the four short months that I've owned this place, I've realized that there are pros and cons to owning your own abode. Here are some things I've learned:

Locking yourself out: This happened in the first week. Duh. Well, the questions come about while walking around the house looking for a way in: What's the cheapest window to break? Is it less expensive than a locksmith? Smashing a window is certainly less time consuming, but don't punch through that little window in the French door, I found out. Go for the kitchen window so you can justify a complete kitchen remodel (as long as we're replacing THAT, let's get down to business - stainless steel all around!).

Watering the lawn: Do not buy a house with a sprinkler system, for if you do, you're going to miss out on the most fabulous American activity of all time, and that is: Controlling A Hose Nozzle In The Left Hand While Holding A Beer In The Right on Saturday Afternoon. There's so much power and precision to be delivered with a finely crafted nozzle (don't buy the cheap ones - splurge for the industrial model. You'll appreciate the craftsmanship and ingenuity that goes into a "Nozzle Mark VII" even if it costs ten bucks more), and it makes my eyes well up when I think about how delightful it is to spray off the driveway. It's a fantastic retreat, and you shouldn't deny yourself this. As an added bonus: it's perfectly legal, providing you don't turn your street into an Arizona Canal tributary.

The Neighbors: In the previously mentioned house that I lived in during the savage years of my early 20's, we hung out a lot in lawn chairs in the front yard. There were neighbors who regularly drove by and shot us looks as if we were fire-breathing demons who had just devoured a basket full of floppy-eared puppies on the sidewalk. I find now that the best bet is to offer frequent, friendly waves when fellow homeowners pass by as I do the watering thing with the beer. Smile. Chat. Be neighborly with the fellow Americans.

Plants will die: No matter how many hours I spend watering on Saturday afternoons, certain plants will just decide that they have no further purpose on this planet, and they will commit suicide. I try to take a Republican stance, telling the plants that they are responsible for their own actions, especially after I've showered them with glorious doses of Miracle-Gro, or what I consider "plant welfare."

The "Cover Charge" for visiting Home Depot is $100: I don't care what happens, if you're there to pick up something simple like a dozen sheet metal screws or a single bag of potting soil, you can't make it out of the place unless you part ways with a hundred bucks. Something always jumps into the cart. Cordless Drill! Ceiling Fan! Oooooh! A Blower/Vacuum! Great deals on paint today! It's a huge financial hazard visiting this store. I've found that it's best to control the visits to once a month. Any more than that, and you're looking at a sprained wallet.

Nevertheless, there's no better feeling than having a place to call home. Now I must be going, for it is Saturday, and that driveway looks a little soiled, and my throat is slightly parched.

It fascinates me to no end that the phone company still sends bills that look like they've been encrypted by medieval scribes. It also amazes me that I used to work for these guys.