Renters Insurance Made Simple: Fill & Download for Free

What if we regulated cars the way we regulated guns?To address the fair point Alice Vits made in the comments, I will add a caveat to this: my answer assumes “we” is the USA. It seems a fair assumption given the ongoing gun control debate and the fact that the inverse of this question (why can’t we regulate guns like cars?) is popular among the American anti-gun crowd.A lot of people seem to be misreading the question. I think this is a fun thought exercise. If cars were regulated like guns:We’d see a lot more signs like this:Your driver’s license would not be recognized by all states. You could become a criminal by crossing state lines unless you first obtain a license from that next state.In fact, some states rarely even issue licenses to their own citizens and getting one from out-of-state will be pretty much impossible. They issue licenses on a “may issue” basis meaning it is completely subjective and the person reviewing your application can take your money and then deny you your license for any reason.These states also require you to demonstrate a “need” for a license. Simply saying you want to drive around or go to work is not enough. They will insist that you have taxis, uber, public transportation, or your own two feet if you’re too poor for those options.Your car might be legal in one state but illegal in the next. Again, cross state lines with the wrong vehicle and you’re now a criminal.Some federal district and circuit courts, and some state courts, refuse to apply strict scrutiny to cases involving vehicular laws or offenses even if it means a Constitutional right is potentially being violated but still insist that strict scrutiny applies to all other rights.You can buy a vehicle from another person without a problem but if you buy a vehicle from a dealer, you must be 18 and must pass a background check. Buying a motorcycle or a sports car instead requires you to be 21 and may have additional requirements based on the state.If you are a felon, were dishonorably discharged from the military, committed certain misdemeanors, or were involuntarily committed to a mental institution, you cannot legally own or operate a car and will fail the background check. This also goes for anyone with a history of drug or alcohol “abuse”, which includes users of medical marijuana.If you lose your rights for the above reasons, the law will technically allow you to regain your driving rights to make the law seem more reasonable but in practice Congress will prohibit the DOT from actually processing any applications to restore driving rights.Some states require all car sales to go through a car dealer, who will charge you extra for the “privilege”. In those states, if you let someone else borrow your car or store a car with a friend or family member without first going through a dealer (and then going through a dealer again when you want the car back), you’ve just committed a crime.Some states will require a waiting period before you can actually pick up your car.Many states do not allow you to buy a car in another state and bring it back home. If you want to buy a car from another state, you can have it shipped to a car dealership in your state and buy it from them (with the aforementioned background checks).If you live in California, you can only buy from a fairly small list of “approved” cars. If a company offers a car in a different color, that car is considered a different model requiring separate safety testing and fee, and therefore might not be California-approved even though it’s exactly the same as a car that is on the approved roster.Newer models of cars on the roster, but updated with more air bags or brighter brake lights, cannot be added to California’s “approved” roster because they can’t meet a newly added safety requirement: Their tires lack the ability to imprint their license plate number as they drive through mud.California claims roster eligibility depends upon safety testing of the cars and that it’s just looking out for its citizens, yet government vehicles do not have to come from the approved list. Public-sector trade unions inexplicably look the other way as their members are daily endangered by the vehicles they’re required to use on the job.California also requires you to have a special tool to open your gas tank. It cannot be opened with the simple pull of a lever or a twist of the cap.In most states, you cannot drive a car under 18 without parental supervision.Mufflers do not come standard on vehicles. To obtain a muffler, you have to file an application and your fingerprints to the Department of Transportation, wait a year for the paperwork to be processed, pass a background check, and then pay a $200 tax. Once that has cleared, you can buy a single muffler. If you need another muffler, you need to do this all over again, even though logically you already passed the process for the first muffler.Owning a smart car, for no logical reason whatsoever, also requires the same process, submit application to DOT, pay tax, wait a year, get approval for a single smart car.Owning anything that requires a CDL to drive also requires the same process and a DOT tax stamp.Cars with automatic transmissions are banned unless one was legally owned prior to 1986, in which case it was grandfathered in. You have to go through the same DOT tax stamp process as above. Because the supply can only go down, the prices of these grandfathered vehicles constantly goes up, so you’ll pay a 1000% markup from its retail cost for a car that has 200,000 miles on it.If anyone questions why automatic transmissions are banned, it’s because no one really needs one and forcing criminals to change gears will slow them down during a getaway so that the police can catch them so stop being a bloodthirsty monster and just think of the children for once!Most states require a license for operation on public roads (oops already true) but a couple do not. Operation on private property is legal without a license (oops, already true).Some states would restrict vehicles based on cosmetic features that don’t actually affect the function of the vehicle at all (ok that’s actually somewhat true already).Some states would ban vehicles that are capable of going above a random arbitrary speed. No one needs to go that fast except military and police! Naturally, this speed limit wouldn’t be based on any sort of research.You wouldn’t be allowed to sue car dealerships or car manufacturers when someone uses a car to commit a crime. Oh wait, no one does that anyway, but guns are different, m’kay!Car insurance becomes optional but most accidents end up being covered by many homeowners or renters insurance policies.For the most part, car registration disappears, except for some states that choose random vehicles to require registration for, or at the federal level for vehicles that require a DOT tax stamp. Of course it’s worth mentioning that as it currently stands, you don’t technically need insurance (you need to be able to financially cover up to a certain amount, if you have the money you could self-insure) and you don’t need any insurance or liability capability to operate your vehicle on private property.Illogical import laws are imposed on some cars, banning the import of cars that aren’t substantially different (or might even be identical) to cars legally sold in the US. Oh wait, that happens already.The DOS orders the removal of any car schematics or part information posted online, citing export laws.Every time a worse-than-average car accident hits the news, people cry out for a car ban or “common sense car regulation” like requiring annual pysch evals to own or operate a car.On the bright side, accidental deaths drop tremendously. People take driving seriously and recognize a car as something capable of being a lethal instrument. You don’t see people texting and driving anymore.People insist on both complaining that cars are not safe enough while also banning safety features like seatbelts, which will also be known as “the shoulder thing that goes down”.I’m sure I’ve missed something, feel free to help me out.Also for some fun reading, someone else posted a blog on the same topic: WE NEED TO REGULATE CARS THE WAY WE REGULATE GUNSAnd to get the other side of this: Sean Sanders's answer to Why not treat guns like cars, i.e., why not license gun owners, register the guns and require gun owners to carry insurance?

Yes. There have been many times, but there are two situations that stick out more than any other situation.I was very tired and overworked when I was in my late teens/early 20’s and needless to say, my food cabinets we're very empty sometimes, with the exception of some random items I had picked up from raiding my mother's pantry when I could get away with it. Even though my food situation was like such, I always made sure my dog had food/shots, heartworm meds, etc. (Don’t get a dog or any other pet unless you’re willing to put their needs as a priority) Having a dog wasn't the most financially simple task at this time but it was always well worth it for me because he was just everything for me. I was especially tired we got home one night, it was wintertime, I didn't feel well, I was hungry, and of course, I had been at work all day when I should've called in sick. I was very short on food and only had random items, condiments, and possibly expired eggs. Out of the random items in my cabinet that we're left from “shopping at moms” was a box of molten chocolate cake. I followed the directions on the back, had to improvise ingredients here and there, then put the cake in the oven to bake and then laid down on the couch. I was woken up by my dog barking in my face and I could smell smoke before I even opened my eyes. When I sat up and rubbed my eyes to take a look at what my dog was having a fit over, the apartment was filled with smoke because I had been asleep over 3 hours and the cake burned, the pyrex dish had exploded, and my oven and stove had caught fire. I had to deal with renters insurance, annoyed landlord, and my apartment smelling like someone burned the Pillsbury doughboy at the stake, but I know that it would have been much worse had I not had my dog at this time in my life. I haven’t sleepy-cooked since this incident.(Brief backstory for clarity)The second time my dog (same dog) alerted me to danger was 10 years later when I was 7 and a half months pregnant with my daughter. I was perfectly healthy during my pregnancy with the exception of having placenta previa. I was told that these things can correct themselves during the pregnancy but it was still nothing to worry about if it didn’t correct itself and my OBGYN assured me that it was perfectly fine and that I could have a scheduled C-section so I did not worry too much.I had been shopping at a “Baby Expo” event at the expo center all day, which is like a giant market with a bunch of vendors selling baby items (furniture, bedding, clothes, etc.). I was supposed to meet my husband for dinner afterward but passed to go home because my back was absolutely killing me that day (more so than usual). Got home, changed into my pajamas and got into bed (I have the worst luck with naptime horrors). Hours later, my dog was barking stranger than usual and he was being really rough with me by nudging me, slamming his muzzle into me, and trying to roll me over with his head. I did the “alright alright” thing to try and calm him because I figured he was feeling urgent to go outside, as he was 12 years old at this time. I sat up, realizing I felt really weak and even more tired than when I went to bed but instantly dismissed it as pregnancy fatigue. The dog is still making urgent noises so I did the “alright alright, I get it” thing again and opened my door to let him outside (my bedroom had a sliding door that led directly to the backyard) but he didn’t go so I shuffled myself to the bathroom. I sat down to go and finally opened my eyes enough to let them adjust to the light and when I looked down, I saw that I had been hemorrhaging and there was a trail of blood leading back to the bed where I found an alarming amount of blood where I had taken my nap. Right then I started feeling sharp pains in my lower abdomen, I started shaking and felt like I was going to pass out but thought the shaking was from trying to process what was going on. I put the dog in his room (yes, he as a room lol) called 911 and went ahead and unlocked the door early for when they would get there because I just knew I was going to pass out (I did pass out) and woke up in the hospital, where I had to have an emergency delivery.My daughter was born perfectly healthy in every way but I lost a significant amount of blood from the complications due to the placenta previa. I know for a fact that it would have been fatal if my dog had not woken me up because my husband at the time never answered his phone that night and never came home either. I went straight to bed after shopping that night and failed to notice that at some point during the day, he had emptied his closet and drawers due to his sudden and secret decision to end a 5-year marriage that day. and because I had only recently moved to that city with him so he could be closer to his family (and a woman he met online), I didn’t have any friends or family in the city. There was nobody who would’ve popped over to check on me so I hate to think what would've happened had my dog not woken me up that night.When I came home from the hospital my dog was so interested and sweet with my daughter. He went from sleeping next to me in my bed to sleeping in her room under her crib, next to her playpen.

Donated wedding gowns give families peace when infants dieThis is one of those questions that when it pops up in my feed, the universe has decided it is time to share another of my adventure's. I have already discussed in more detail than I probably should have, the circumstances surrounding my first disastrous attempt at marriage. For those who missed it or need a refresher, here is a link to the post.Colleen Anne Coyle's answer to What innocent-seeming picture is actually heartbreaking?The months after my return from Syria remain a blur almost twenty years later. The embarassment of having to notify friends and loved ones who continued to send belated wedding gifts was at times overwhelming. I thought the right thing to do was to return the gifts and money along with a handwritten note thanking them for their generosity and support during this difficulty period. To my surprise, many responded with offers of support, love and money to help me start the process of rebuilding.Unable to sleep at night and keep the demons at bay, I spent hours as others slept compling information, photos, valuations for insurance claims. No one understands better than I, the loneliness and isolation of being awake as the rest of the world sleeps. Bills continued to pile up and multiply as I had maxed out every credit card for the wedding that wasn't and the hasty retreat back to the States. In my naivete, I assumed that living in a country where credit cards were not accepted, and the cost of living was a mere percentage of that in the States, would give me the time to pay them off rapidly. Definitely another poor decision in a sequence of many.Once I established how catastophic my financial situation really was, I started the process of negotiating payment plans, paying off in full what I could and trying to juggle everything else. Next, I began the tedious process of filing insurance claims with my carrier for all the damaged, destroyed, and stolen goods that were confiscated by the government when I left Syria so hastily. This turned out to be the easiest process of rebuilding. I had renter's insurance that essentially covered everything. A lifetime of memories, small momentos, gifts, family heirlooms, antiques collected as I aged and all the recently purchased essentials I just had to have for my new life in Syria. The few items not covered by my insurance, ended up being covered under insurance thru the shipping company and United States Post Office.It only took a few weeks for the checks to arrive after my claims were processed. I remember the day as if it were yesterday. Tropical Storm Bertha deluged South Florida. I remember being handed the mail, opening it, dropping it to the floor and running outside into torential rains. The pelting rain hid the tears that I had not shed since leaving Syria. The tropical force winds cloaked my cries and heartbroken screaming as for the first time I allowed myself to voice the grief, anger and frustration bottled up for so long. No one came out with an umbrella or to drag me inside. Loved ones and friends were relieved that I finally gave myself permission to grieve and feel.A fierce hurricane season is just about overI woke the next morning to downed palm trees, no electricity and a flooded lanai and pool. But it was all manageable, life became manageable once more. After helping neighbors clean up and set up generators to keep food from spoiling and dragging grills into the street to cook what couldn't be saved, I began to appreciate and enjoy the small triumphs. I found and rented an apartment tucked up into the tree line, giving the impression of living in a tree house. I began trolling garage sales, flea markets, consignment shops and antique stores to equip the next phase of my life. I started new collections, carefully curating china, silverware, mirrors, artwork and collectibles that in no way shape or form resembled anything I previously owned.There was still one gigantic elephant hiding in a closet- the wedding gown, dried silk bouquet and crown with floor length satin ribbons dyed to match the stunning embroidery on the gown's bodice. From the moment I saw it, I was in love ( perhaps borderlined obsessed) with the gown. It had been waiting on the rack in a small couture boutique in Boca Raton for over a year, for me. Ivory satin with stunning colored and embroidered flowers and vines, it was perfect and within a few hours mine. An exclusive florist a few doors down, designed the most beautiful silk bouquet with matching ribbons, as well as a matching crown. The ribbons trailed down the back of the gown and train, in place of a veil.I knew I couldn't sell the gown. I just couldn't risk the bad karma or vibes being passed onto another. I couldn't destroy it or toss it in the trash. It was truly a work of art that needed to be shared, I just didn't know how or where. I also knew I couldn't take it with me or abandon to a dark corner of a storage shed. The day before I moved into my new apartment, it hit me. I knew exactly what to do with the gown and accessories.A local charity was looking for silk flower arrangements to adorn the graves of those who died in miliary service. While not in the traditional red, white and blue, I knew that I wanted my bouquet to adorn the headstone of a female veteran, a final tribute of beauty for a life of sacrifices. I grabbed the box, walked the two miles to the organization and dropped off my bouquet. Those present were shocked at my request and donation. Rather than place it in a bin with others, one woman grabbed a set of keys, said let's go and drove us to a small cemetary in Coral Springs. After a few minutes, we stopped in front of a small weathered headstone with the partial name of a woman who had served and died in Vietnam. We cleared the weeds and other debris, set the bouquet in a small metal vase and draped the crown and ribbons on top of the headstone. For the first time since returning, I genuinely smiled. Even if it only remained a day or so before the weather or a bunch of kids removed it, she was honored with a simple gesture for a sacrifice made decades earlier.As we left the cemetery, we encounted a heart breakng scene. A young couple burying their stillborn infant in a simple box, no pomp and ceremony as they could not afford even the simpliest of burials. I couldn't imagine their grief, sorrow heartbreak in interring a life with unfilled promise and joy. I ran back to the headstone and grabbed the crown & ribbons. As mouners gave their final respects, I stood in line approaching the casket. I laid the crown on top of a small white box and arranged the ribbons as best I could. I wanted her to have an item of beauty to carry with her into the afterlife. It was all I had to offer, I never stopped to consider if it was something her grieving parents and loved ones would have approved of.As we left the cemetery, several relatives stopped in front of the car. Thanking me for my simple gesture, they described their sadness that there wasn't enough time or money to give the little girl the burial she deserved. One mentioned an organization that provided Angel Gowns- burial gowns fabricated out of donated wedding gowns and small satin pouches for the parents to treasure the few small remainders of their little one. There were organizations and branches spread throughout the state and country. In this instance, local chapters had exhausted their supply of donated gowns.Returning home, I jumped on the internet, wrote down the mailing address, grabbed the box and biked to the nearest collection center a few miles away. I handed the box over to the receptionist.[1] As I turned to leave, I heard a series of gasps. Some didn't want to cut up the gown- it was a work of art, too beautiful etc. However, one woman already had a plan to maximize the embroidery and ensure that each new burial gown would contain a snippet of the artwork.Donated Wedding Dresses Are Being Made Into Angel Gowns For Families Who Lost BabiesIn the end, the seamstresses were able to fashion 6 embroidered gowns and matching satin pouches. There was a little left over fabric that would be used for lining in two.coffins. I don't know who ever recieved the gowns- it's better that way. The only comfort I could take away from the experience was knowing that those denied their first breath would be dressed and swaddled in beauty and comfort. Having never lost a child, I cannot imagine the continued heartbreak and sorrow, knowing you are financially unable to provide your angel with even the most basic of burials. At least as time goes on, they would have that elegant pouch to hold onto the fragments of a life never lived.The last night before starting over again, I slept- slept as I hadn't in months. The next morning with a Uhaul full of furniture, books, clothing and my trusty Zenobia meowing in the front seat, I began a new adventure. This was different than every other. Once everything had been unloaded and the rental truck gone, I sat down admist the boxes and cried. Not the heart wrenching sobs of the hurricane, just hours of sorrow laden tears for dreams and love lost, combined with the fear of never finding love, peace and security again. In time, I learned to live, trust and love fully. I learned not to settle, I discovered the true value and worth of myself, my feelings and emotions and I discovered the true joy & happiness of a life not weighted down with regrets, sorrows and possessions. And years later, after waiting first patiently and then not so patiently, I felt safe enough to take a leap that lead me to the man who saved me from self destruction and gave me a son and future.It was years before anyone asked what did you do with your gown. Most assumed including family members, that I sold it or destoryed it during a drunken night of eradicating the momentos of my disastrous adventure. At first, all I said was it has been recycled- nothing more of less. It wasn't until two years ago, while reading a Facebook.post from a beloved friend who newly divorced struggled with what to do with her gown, once a symbol of love and promise, that I shared the whole story of my gown's adventure. Turns out that she had an angel of her own that she carried in her heart, unable at the time to provide a proper burial. Before shipping her gown she saved a section of the dress, which she framed along with a photo of her angel.Footnotes[1] http://The Angel Gown® Program • NICU Helping Hands