Choices suck. I went with Dean last night to check out an offer possiblity in Windemere down the road from Erica and Ray. I really like the house and was willing to put in an offer. Then Dean tells me “I have another one for you.” And I, willingly, go with him to look. So this new house is HUGE. They’re asking for more than I’m qualified for, but the circumstances under which this house is for sale make it pretty likely we can talk them down. I know for a fact that my sweetie would like this new house much better than the Windemere house. This new house has a fireplace (Great! Look everyone, let’s watch as Becky tries to burn down her own house!) and a much much bigger kitchen. The basement is huge, huge enough to do roller discos down there.
The windemere house has a room large enough for my bedroom. But it does not have enough basement space for the random tools and paint and stuff that I already have and will continue to accumulate. The new house does. The new houses one full bathroom is a little…oddly laid out and the bedrooms are small-ish, but the Kitchen! And the Den! And the Basement!
So Erica calls on her way home from work last night and we talk. She wants to see New House. Then Cheryl calls and wants to see New House too. So poor Dean will have the 3 furies on his case tonight looking at houses if he’s able to go.
Oh, and no offers on the house yet. But it’s still REALLY clean. And I did visit all of my children at their respective camps last night. Poor Schaeffer and Patrick. They’re at Erica’s, and they’re well taken care of, but they miss home. They meow loud. LOUD. Spike, Nicholas, Lucy and Lilly are at my mama’s, and doing very very well. They’ve started rearranging the furniture in my mama’s guest room for her, how nice!
I’ll keep y’all posted on the house buying extravaganza, but boy, this stinks. Thinking is hard.
Last weekend while the love of my life was cleaning my carpets, I went with Erica, Ray and Cheryl to a fundraiser for Cystic Fibrosis.
*Editor’s note: Jason was not forced to clean the carpets under punishment of death. My sweetie volunteered; not wanting to go to the fundraiser. He is a VERY GOOD PERSON.*
So on the way to this fundraiser, we had to stop and get cash. So I look over Erica’s shoulder to check out her pin number so I can steal her card so I can…oh wait, did I just write that?
Seriously. I was curious, and I noticed that her numbers were suprisingly close to mine. Then I realized that they weren’t just suprisingly close, HER PIN NUMBERS ARE THE SAME AS MY PIN NUMBERS. Not in the same order, but the same numbers.
That’s just odd. That’s been my pin for at least six years.
Cue Twilight Zone music.
So this past week I’ve been involved in a whirlwind of looking at houses, fixing my house, cleaning and shuttling cats so I can move away from Elkton. Albiet, I’ll only be moving maybe 15 minutes away from my current abode, but it’ll be great not having to worry about one of your crazy neighbors coming up to you drunk talking to you about their marriage falling apart. It’s true.
Selling a house is worse than sticking a non-sharpened number 3 pencil in your eye. Really. I’ve painted my blue kitchen white, fixed the hole in my entryway (courtesy of Jason…not the hole, mind you, he fixed it, not made it) fixed the holes on my basement stairway, cleaned the carpets, vaccuumed, fixed my door frame, landscaped, and cleaned cleaned cleaned.
The house went up today. I’m going with Dean tonight to check out some houses we looked at last week. Last week, the home search turned into one huge group of my family. Me, Erica and Jason were the original three going to look. Cheryl called Thursday afternoon saying she was pissed she wasn’t invited. Then Raymond said he wanted to go too, for shits and giggles. Then Mac showed up at the last house we saw, and knew the sellers agent. Poor Dean.
I’ve seen Catherine more in the last week and a half than I have in the past two years. I saw her for dinner last week when we decided to list my house on May 9th. Then I found a great house over the weekend (my offer wasn’t accepted, some dufus offered cash, damn him) and we had to say we’d list it right away. So we listed right away.
The babies have all been moved. Two are with Erica, and four are with my mama. I miss them. Alot.
Moving sucks.
Oh, too funny. You know, even though some may think that CNN is the liberal work of Satan himself, boy, are their new commercials funny. Those satanists really have a sense of humor, I tell you.
AND! I can watch them here at work because I have a high speed connection, oh happy day!
Go here to see what I’m all a-buzz about.
Anyone that knows me knows what I think about Catholicism as a whole, and most other organized religions for that matter.
However.
Yesterday, as I was getting ready to leave work, Patty, our office admin. came over with a box she’d been saving for me for packing. She then tells me she forgot to tell me something on Friday, and tells me that I need to go out and purchase a small plastic statue of St. Joseph, bury him upside down in my front yard, facing the street. (many of you at this point might be thinking “do the hokey pokey and just shake it all about” however Patty was serious.) Apparently, St. Joseph upsidedown facing out will help my house sell.
Now, my only problem is, I’m so not catholic it’s funny. I wouldn’t know where to buy a small plastic St. Joseph any more than I would know where to find an African American in Rising Sun.
HELP! Does anyone know where to find a small plastic St. Peter in the state of DE, or more specifically Newark or Elkton?
After discussing this with Melissa and Denise, Denise told me to go to a Catholic Church and they’d have them there. Melissa strongly cautioned “no, she probably shouldn’t, the church might set on fire when she walked in”. After I calmly reminded Melissa I’d been to the Vatican and it was still standing, she replied “Well, the Pope was still alive then, and they have all those Saints there, too.”
Good point.
So Jason teased me last week that I’d do my normal impulse buying thing and snatch up the first house I saw that caught my eye.
Well, you know that feeling that you get when you meet a person and can’t stop thinking about them?
I feel that way about a house. I’ve tried calling it…and it won’t return my calls. I don’t think it has the same feelings for me, I don’t think it’s quite at that level…it might be a little high maintenence….but oh boy.
I don’t want to jinx it, but I really liked it. Although, I may end up needing Erica’s special brand of demolition….the master bedroom is too small, and Cheryl suggested I take out a wall between the two extra bedrooms. Good plan!
And it wasn’t even the first house. It was the SECOND.
But we’ll see.
From Cyn:
You’re Not a Hipster!
Take What sort of Hipster are you? today!
Created with Rum and Monkey’s Personality Test Generator.
You’re actually not much of a Hipster. Congratulations! You may have Hipster style, but you’re healthy, you eat right, you have a decent job you enjoy, your finances are stable, you plan on buying a house (if you don’t already own one) and settling down before you’re 35, you have friends you like, your friends like you, and you can honestly say you’re pretty damn happy. Perhaps you should adopt a Hipster and draw them into your perfect lair . . .
Yep, that about sums it up, right there. Yep yep!
I got my first set of potential houses emailed to me this morning…oh boy! Hopefully sometime this weekend Erica, Cheryl and I will be able to check some out, and next week Dean (the new buyers agent) and I will be able to do some tours.
Oh boy!
And now, to make my house livable by normal standards. Anyone want to adopt a few cats for the next couple of months?
Anyone?
And this is Baby Gracie, Jackson’s twin. Aren’t they beautiful? 
Meet Baby Jackson Penland. He was born about a month ago, to my good friends Mark and Pam in TN.
