If you took 2-inch by 4-inch stickers off of plastic boxes about 20 times a day, what would you do with them?
If you answered a question with a question, I’m right there with you… You’re wondering if they are recyclable and if this is a trap question to determine if you are truly green in an age where it is cool to worry about the future of the planet. Well, I don’t know if they’re recyclable. Nor do I care.
The right answer is “Well, Loren, I would probably wad them up into a ball. But not a new ball everyday… No, I’m thinking I’d wad them into the same ball. Every day. For five years.
So I spent last week in Tampa for work. We were looking at the warehousing for a couple of hospitals down there. It was on this trip that I met Baby. Baby is the afore-referenced ball of packing stickers. How many packing stickers would you have assembled, in pounds of course? Well, you’d weigh in at a smidge under 300. Pounds, of course. Naturally, you’d want to put eyes and lips on Baby, and occasionally dress her up.
What else happened in Tampa? Good question. You just got your participation points for the week. Let me tell you what else happened in Tampa… We got sabotaged. While my creativity rots away in a cubicle from 8 to 5, even in my imagination’s prime, I couldn’t have made up the following…
I had just badged back in from the bathroom. Yes, badged in. As I walked into our conference room that we were working in for the week, a coworker immediately asked “Do you smell that?” It was at that precise second that I could and did respond with “I do now… What is that?” “I don’t know. I just saw a guy walk by and spray something in here.”
That something must have been the intestinal lining of fourteen cows and the melted glass from twenty-three thousand used rectal thermometers, in aerosol form. I have smelled something similar before… In your effort to learn more about me, you’ll be excited to know that I used to work in a fireworks warehouse. It was there that I was introduced to the Wild Geese Rocket.
Fireworks come from… brace yourself… China. Apparently, cardboard, paper, and urine are the preferred packing products. After a trip across an ocean and 2,000 miles of non-ocean, the cardboard really starts to smell. Don’t worry, the urine doesn’t smell at that point.
Anyway, it smelled [insert your preferred synonym for dreadful here]. We marveled at the odor for a while, which I believe to be analogous to watching a school bus teeter on the edge of a cliff, with nothing but a herd of helpless sheep below. Then we began to look for a solution. People who work in the areas around our conference room began to wander in just to see if it really smelled as bad as they had heard. No one left disappointed.
The guy we were working with most of the time came in and immediately told us to evacuate. Done. So, we’re hanging out in the hallway when he decides to begin the manhunt. Blue shirt, white tie. Look out.
Everyone at the facility has their picture up on the wall… Well, everyone except for the prime suspect. Facility guy comes to us, picture in hand, “Is this him?” Coworker, “I didn’t get a good look at him. I just saw the back of his head.” As I wonder how this guy got profiled as the assailant, facility guy explains, “He has a history of doing stuff like this.” I really want to know what you have to do to get the kind of reputation where you are immediately accused of stinkbombing a room full of strangers in a professional environment.
Regardless, Febreeze and Lysol started coming from various locations and the fumigation began. There’s really no elegant way to go into your office and come out with a can of Lysol. Still, it worked for the most part. A couple of hours later, all that was left was a potential blog post. You can thank public enemy number 2.
7.17.2010
Hit the Deck
Why the delay and random Independence post to break up the housing saga? Mostly because I didn't want to jinx it... I believe my house-hunting to be over.
In preparation for trip 3, Rea sent me a few more listings. I picked out one that was quite near the parents’ house. As I wanted to live a little more in the East Nashville area, so I RealTrac-ed anything in the area with 2 bathrooms. This is mainly so I can have one bathroom that appears clean for visitors without having to actually clean it. Found one with potential. Trip 3 was set – 2 houses.
So, Mom had been asking to join me in the house viewings. She said she didn’t want to go to give me her opinion, she just liked looking at houses. Trip 1 occurred at the same time as a family dinner that no one told me about until 24 hours before. As such, Mom had alternate plans. She didn’t make it to trip 2 either, so trip 3 was her first time out.
I told Mom I’d pick her up after work. As I get to the parents’, Dad informs me he’s decided to ride along for the house that is near to them. A family outing has been formed. So we roll up to house 7 to see Rea talking to the homeowner. Homeowner pulls out of the driveway as we get out of the car. This will become slightly less unimportant shortly.
I introduce Rea to the parents and vice versa. Let the house viewing begin.
House 7: Located on a riding mower sized lot. Pro. We open the door and are immediately met with a new objective: find the cat that’s been smoking a pack a day. Con. Why did we care earlier that Rea had been talking to the homeowner? Because it was during that conversation that homeowner informed Rea that the wood in the first room we walked into was formerly used at a Captain D’s run by his wife’s ex-husband. Let that sink in. Not only is fish-grease-soaked wood a selling point, but the guy went through his wife’s ex to get the fish-grease-soaked wood. That’s pretty much all I remember about house 7. Potential diseases acquired: Tetanus, West Nile, Double Emphysema. Naked people seen: 1.
After I have made my way through house 7, Mom comments, “Wow. You went through that really quickly.” Rea, “Yeah, usually I have to schedule an hour to show a house. For Loren, it’s more like 15 minutes.” Turns out, I can tell if I like something almost as quickly as I can tell if I don’t like it. Mind you, I have seen plenty of places I didn’t like in this process. God made home inspectors to find the flaws. So, Rea and I make small talk as Mom and Dad roam around house 7, making up for my sub-par walk-through.
House 8: After Dad says peace out, we’re back in Inglewood, where the slogan is “It’s where we want to live.” Catchy. We park on the street. Primarily because there is no driveway. Good start. We walk the 45 yards of new deck to get to the door. And by new deck, I mean enormous monstrosity that the seller appears to have built himself. Good news, if a strong wind blows through, it will take care of tearing down the 6 foot fortress. Either that or I’m hiring some Israelites with trumpets for 7 days.
As we enter, Rea tells us the house has been staged. For those of you who haven’t watched as much HGTV as I have, that means, someone has strategically arranged the furniture in order to create an atmosphere that encourages home-buying. This would become very apparent when we walked into the master bedroom to discover a cute breakfast in bed tray. These are the kind of personal touches that really make me feel like I could live in one of these places. Overall, nice place. Pretty much all carpet, lots of green, and an enormous mirror that could replace the moon in a pinch. Outside of the “improvements” the guy made on the house, I like it. I kind of wish Noah would have consulted me prior to building his ark outside, but I guess the rest made up for it.
To make an incredibly long story short, after potentially acquiring Tetanus, West Nile, and two strings of Emphysema and seeing one naked person scurrying around, we commence to make you jump. Jump. Nevermind. That was Kris Kross. We, in actuality, commenced the offer/counter-offer process on House 8. Whew.
Thanks for following my soap opera. If you're not some sketchy blog-hopper, stop by the house sometime... There's a clean bathroom if you need it.
In preparation for trip 3, Rea sent me a few more listings. I picked out one that was quite near the parents’ house. As I wanted to live a little more in the East Nashville area, so I RealTrac-ed anything in the area with 2 bathrooms. This is mainly so I can have one bathroom that appears clean for visitors without having to actually clean it. Found one with potential. Trip 3 was set – 2 houses.
So, Mom had been asking to join me in the house viewings. She said she didn’t want to go to give me her opinion, she just liked looking at houses. Trip 1 occurred at the same time as a family dinner that no one told me about until 24 hours before. As such, Mom had alternate plans. She didn’t make it to trip 2 either, so trip 3 was her first time out.
I told Mom I’d pick her up after work. As I get to the parents’, Dad informs me he’s decided to ride along for the house that is near to them. A family outing has been formed. So we roll up to house 7 to see Rea talking to the homeowner. Homeowner pulls out of the driveway as we get out of the car. This will become slightly less unimportant shortly.
I introduce Rea to the parents and vice versa. Let the house viewing begin.
House 7: Located on a riding mower sized lot. Pro. We open the door and are immediately met with a new objective: find the cat that’s been smoking a pack a day. Con. Why did we care earlier that Rea had been talking to the homeowner? Because it was during that conversation that homeowner informed Rea that the wood in the first room we walked into was formerly used at a Captain D’s run by his wife’s ex-husband. Let that sink in. Not only is fish-grease-soaked wood a selling point, but the guy went through his wife’s ex to get the fish-grease-soaked wood. That’s pretty much all I remember about house 7. Potential diseases acquired: Tetanus, West Nile, Double Emphysema. Naked people seen: 1.
After I have made my way through house 7, Mom comments, “Wow. You went through that really quickly.” Rea, “Yeah, usually I have to schedule an hour to show a house. For Loren, it’s more like 15 minutes.” Turns out, I can tell if I like something almost as quickly as I can tell if I don’t like it. Mind you, I have seen plenty of places I didn’t like in this process. God made home inspectors to find the flaws. So, Rea and I make small talk as Mom and Dad roam around house 7, making up for my sub-par walk-through.
House 8: After Dad says peace out, we’re back in Inglewood, where the slogan is “It’s where we want to live.” Catchy. We park on the street. Primarily because there is no driveway. Good start. We walk the 45 yards of new deck to get to the door. And by new deck, I mean enormous monstrosity that the seller appears to have built himself. Good news, if a strong wind blows through, it will take care of tearing down the 6 foot fortress. Either that or I’m hiring some Israelites with trumpets for 7 days.
As we enter, Rea tells us the house has been staged. For those of you who haven’t watched as much HGTV as I have, that means, someone has strategically arranged the furniture in order to create an atmosphere that encourages home-buying. This would become very apparent when we walked into the master bedroom to discover a cute breakfast in bed tray. These are the kind of personal touches that really make me feel like I could live in one of these places. Overall, nice place. Pretty much all carpet, lots of green, and an enormous mirror that could replace the moon in a pinch. Outside of the “improvements” the guy made on the house, I like it. I kind of wish Noah would have consulted me prior to building his ark outside, but I guess the rest made up for it.
To make an incredibly long story short, after potentially acquiring Tetanus, West Nile, and two strings of Emphysema and seeing one naked person scurrying around, we commence to make you jump. Jump. Nevermind. That was Kris Kross. We, in actuality, commenced the offer/counter-offer process on House 8. Whew.
Thanks for following my soap opera. If you're not some sketchy blog-hopper, stop by the house sometime... There's a clean bathroom if you need it.
7.05.2010
"I've Never Used a Port-O-Potty"
Americans are all pyro-maniacs at heart. Nashville had millions of people staring at the same point in the city, drooling over flashing colors. Where else can you find that? Hundreds of other cities across the U.S.A. Count me among the pyros.
Taking a break from the drama of trying to spend more money than I have made life-to-date, let’s talk about America’s birthday. We have a family at church that owns a parking lot downtown. They are kind enough to donate their enormous patch of blacktop every year for “food, fellowship, fireworks, and alliteration.” That might not be the exact title, but it’s close. Riverwood (that would be my church home, and thus, is mentioned first) and Northside have been doing this for a few years now. This year, we invited Jackson Park to join in on the good times.
We showed up a little early to help set everything up. Good news is, the bouncy house people also showed up early to drop off the two Moon Bounces. We got everything set up in record time and set out for the bouncy house. Sure, the youth minister and I probably each exceeded the overall weight limit for these things. However, Independence Day must be a big day for the party rental place, so no one was there to enforce the rules. Having never done a front flip, cartwheel, back flip, or a handstand, I was suddenly presented with the perfect opportunity to achieve all four.
As a twenty-four year old male, I have discovered a bouncy house hangover is nothing to joke about. I failed at all of my four inflatable missions. Having failed at the front flip with a couple of hops to build up inertia, I decided that perhaps I should try a flat-footed back flip. Apparently there is an invisible table located outside the entrance of the Moon Bounce where you must check your logic. As I landed on my face on my one back flip attempt, I discovered I was in pain. Not in my face per se, more the toe I had apparently gotten caught on the netting and then slammed into the floor of the blow-up mansion. I chalked it up as a mild sprain and continued bouncing.
Here I lounge on my July 5th holiday, icing my foot and trying to massage the pain out of the neck I landed on countless times. Lesson learned. Until next year.
Regardless of my pain, a good time was had last night. Plenty of hamburgers and hotdogs, youth group kids conquering their fear of port-o-potties, a little concert, a period of worship consisting of old folks mumbling through newfangled devotional songs, children happily bouncing in the puddles of sweat and blood we left for them in the bouncy houses, catching up with old friends and church league rivals, 4 visits to the dessert table, 93 degrees, 84 ounces of fluid, one folding chair that was far too small for me, and lots of explosions. Like I said, a good time.
Hey, America, let’s do this again next year. Even if China has taken over by then, we’ll be alright – they make all the fireworks anyway.
Taking a break from the drama of trying to spend more money than I have made life-to-date, let’s talk about America’s birthday. We have a family at church that owns a parking lot downtown. They are kind enough to donate their enormous patch of blacktop every year for “food, fellowship, fireworks, and alliteration.” That might not be the exact title, but it’s close. Riverwood (that would be my church home, and thus, is mentioned first) and Northside have been doing this for a few years now. This year, we invited Jackson Park to join in on the good times.
We showed up a little early to help set everything up. Good news is, the bouncy house people also showed up early to drop off the two Moon Bounces. We got everything set up in record time and set out for the bouncy house. Sure, the youth minister and I probably each exceeded the overall weight limit for these things. However, Independence Day must be a big day for the party rental place, so no one was there to enforce the rules. Having never done a front flip, cartwheel, back flip, or a handstand, I was suddenly presented with the perfect opportunity to achieve all four.
As a twenty-four year old male, I have discovered a bouncy house hangover is nothing to joke about. I failed at all of my four inflatable missions. Having failed at the front flip with a couple of hops to build up inertia, I decided that perhaps I should try a flat-footed back flip. Apparently there is an invisible table located outside the entrance of the Moon Bounce where you must check your logic. As I landed on my face on my one back flip attempt, I discovered I was in pain. Not in my face per se, more the toe I had apparently gotten caught on the netting and then slammed into the floor of the blow-up mansion. I chalked it up as a mild sprain and continued bouncing.
Here I lounge on my July 5th holiday, icing my foot and trying to massage the pain out of the neck I landed on countless times. Lesson learned. Until next year.
Regardless of my pain, a good time was had last night. Plenty of hamburgers and hotdogs, youth group kids conquering their fear of port-o-potties, a little concert, a period of worship consisting of old folks mumbling through newfangled devotional songs, children happily bouncing in the puddles of sweat and blood we left for them in the bouncy houses, catching up with old friends and church league rivals, 4 visits to the dessert table, 93 degrees, 84 ounces of fluid, one folding chair that was far too small for me, and lots of explosions. Like I said, a good time.
Hey, America, let’s do this again next year. Even if China has taken over by then, we’ll be alright – they make all the fireworks anyway.
Home Shopping - Networking
So, due to the success of houses 1-3, more internet listings head my way. I pick a fresh round of 3. As I take some pride in knowing where most gang violence is likely to occur in East Nashville, I decided to take a drive around to explore the potential neighborhoods. Small problem: the little sticker that held Australian Karen, my Garmin, in place was affected by the change in temperature and stopped being sticky. As such, I left Australian Karen in the air-conditioned comfort of the rental house. Additionally, I didn’t feel it worth my while to pull over, pick up my phone, and look up the addresses.
Using my stellar navigational skills, I managed to locate 33% of the houses. Found all 3 streets. Only one house. Sweet, going into the house showing completely uninformed.
House 4: This was the one house I found in my pregame study. That’s because it’s literally one minute from where I live now. Nice house. If you like the feeling of being on the inside of a hand-rolled cigarette. Luckily I do like that feeling. Potential diseases acquired: Tetanus, West Nile, Emphysema. Naked people seen: 1.
House 5: This was a quaint little house that was listed for half of the property assessor’s 2009 value. I figured I’d check it out. Nice little neighborhood. We are walking through the house – it’s nice enough. A little smaller than all the other joints we’ve looked at, but looks relatively fresh. Rea has these sheets that have a little more info than the sheets she’s sent me. As we’re walking around the basement of house 5, she reads (aloud), “Suffered foundation damage in the flood.” Anyone know the quickest way out of a strange basement? There’s a reason kidnappers don’t tell their hostages that there was structural damage to the foundation of their dungeon. Potential diseases acquired: Tetanus, West Nile, Emphysema. Naked people seen: 1.
House 6: So, we’re on our way to house 6. I knew where the road was. And, due to my affinity for not getting carjacked, I knew I wanted to turn left onto that road as we approached it. Right it is. [Note: 97% sure they just bleeped out the word “crap” on Holmes on Homes.] So, we drive past the 3rd sketchiest market in Metro Nashville, and arrive at house 6. Rea pulls in the driveway, beside a teenage gentleman sitting in his car. He apparently was a member of the neighborhood watch. Or the Mexican Mafia. So we exchange pleasantries: “Hey, how’s it going?” (silent stare). We take a look around this house – by far, the biggest house I’d looked at. Not bad, but the neighborhood was a little suspect. In fact, the guy in the driveway was probably a little suspect in some felony somewhere. One feature of house 6: the stone mini-amphitheatre in the backyard. I decided it was either a Greco-Roman bathing area or a ping-pong arena. We didn’t stick around long enough to find out.
House 6 gets 2 paragraphs. Big time. So, I liked the house part of house 6, but wanted to check into the surrounding environment. I called up an old friend. And by called up, I mean facebook messaged. [Note: Again, I acknowledge my error, but feel free to harass anyway.] I will await her reply. Potential diseases acquired: Tetanus, West Nile, Emphysema. Naked people seen: 1.
At this point, I’m beginning to tire of being in the background of an episode of Cops, nearly being crushed by a house, and coming up with new ways of saying, “I’m sorry for risking your life, Rea, to look at a house I no longer have any interest in.” My internal conversation went a little like this:
Me: “Rea’s probably getting a little annoyed showing you all these cheap houses in the hood.”
Me: “Well, turns out she’s in the personal service industry. She can suck it up.”
Me: “Yeah, but seriously…”
Then Rea cut me off when she told me that the last person she found a house for looked at 30 houses before she found the one. At that point I decided I’d cut my eyes out before I’d look at 30 houses. Color me encouraged.
The sentence you are reading right now is designed to foreshadow the foreshadowing. Maybe something positive would happen on trip #3.
Using my stellar navigational skills, I managed to locate 33% of the houses. Found all 3 streets. Only one house. Sweet, going into the house showing completely uninformed.
House 4: This was the one house I found in my pregame study. That’s because it’s literally one minute from where I live now. Nice house. If you like the feeling of being on the inside of a hand-rolled cigarette. Luckily I do like that feeling. Potential diseases acquired: Tetanus, West Nile, Emphysema. Naked people seen: 1.
House 5: This was a quaint little house that was listed for half of the property assessor’s 2009 value. I figured I’d check it out. Nice little neighborhood. We are walking through the house – it’s nice enough. A little smaller than all the other joints we’ve looked at, but looks relatively fresh. Rea has these sheets that have a little more info than the sheets she’s sent me. As we’re walking around the basement of house 5, she reads (aloud), “Suffered foundation damage in the flood.” Anyone know the quickest way out of a strange basement? There’s a reason kidnappers don’t tell their hostages that there was structural damage to the foundation of their dungeon. Potential diseases acquired: Tetanus, West Nile, Emphysema. Naked people seen: 1.
House 6: So, we’re on our way to house 6. I knew where the road was. And, due to my affinity for not getting carjacked, I knew I wanted to turn left onto that road as we approached it. Right it is. [Note: 97% sure they just bleeped out the word “crap” on Holmes on Homes.] So, we drive past the 3rd sketchiest market in Metro Nashville, and arrive at house 6. Rea pulls in the driveway, beside a teenage gentleman sitting in his car. He apparently was a member of the neighborhood watch. Or the Mexican Mafia. So we exchange pleasantries: “Hey, how’s it going?” (silent stare). We take a look around this house – by far, the biggest house I’d looked at. Not bad, but the neighborhood was a little suspect. In fact, the guy in the driveway was probably a little suspect in some felony somewhere. One feature of house 6: the stone mini-amphitheatre in the backyard. I decided it was either a Greco-Roman bathing area or a ping-pong arena. We didn’t stick around long enough to find out.
House 6 gets 2 paragraphs. Big time. So, I liked the house part of house 6, but wanted to check into the surrounding environment. I called up an old friend. And by called up, I mean facebook messaged. [Note: Again, I acknowledge my error, but feel free to harass anyway.] I will await her reply. Potential diseases acquired: Tetanus, West Nile, Emphysema. Naked people seen: 1.
At this point, I’m beginning to tire of being in the background of an episode of Cops, nearly being crushed by a house, and coming up with new ways of saying, “I’m sorry for risking your life, Rea, to look at a house I no longer have any interest in.” My internal conversation went a little like this:
Me: “Rea’s probably getting a little annoyed showing you all these cheap houses in the hood.”
Me: “Well, turns out she’s in the personal service industry. She can suck it up.”
Me: “Yeah, but seriously…”
Then Rea cut me off when she told me that the last person she found a house for looked at 30 houses before she found the one. At that point I decided I’d cut my eyes out before I’d look at 30 houses. Color me encouraged.
The sentence you are reading right now is designed to foreshadow the foreshadowing. Maybe something positive would happen on trip #3.
7.02.2010
Bartender: One House, Please
Once upon a time, I decided it was time to stop paying rent. In lieu of facing a civil suit from my best friend’s sister and brother-in-law (my landpeople), I decided to drop a few thousand dollars on a house. Besides, it would have been really awkward serving communion on Sunday to the people who were serving me a summons on Monday.
Turns out, buying a house involves a little bit of effort… unless you just won Powerball. [Note: I discovered winning Powerball involves getting all the numbers right. When you get half the numbers, you do not get half the jackpot.] So, I got a real estate agent. Mainly so I could say I have a real estate agent, but also to facilitate the buying of a house. While I trust the safety of the worldwide web as much as anyone, I choose not to disclose my real estate agent’s name. We’ll call her Rea… Give it a second.
So Rea began sending me listings. Now before you get too excited, realize that the listings I was getting sent my way looked nothing like House Hunters on HGTV. [Note: Yes, I have watched way more than my share of HGTV since this process began. In fact, it’s on right now. Make jokes if you so choose, but I acknowledge my weakness.] My preferred home-buying budget led me to get a lot of listings that could have doubled an antique barn or perhaps a meth-lab. So from these listings, I weeded out the barns and started picking houses to physically visit. Old school, I know, but they don’t offer many virtual tours of houses that haven’t been lived in since a Roosevelt was president.
House 1: So I hadn’t met with Rea in person regarding the house hunt yet. As such, when I pulled onto the street, I felt a little bad that, instead of being greeted by fancy stone columns of a nice gated community, Rea would pull into the neighborhood with a Budget Brakes on her left and a Missionary Baptist church in the basement of a Discount Liquor on her right – Pillars of the community. Realizing this was a house I was looking to live in and these were the neighborhoods I might end up in, I stopped feeling a little bad... Until I pulled in the driveway and saw Rea in her Mercedes coupe. She got out and informed me she might have been a little scared to get out of the car before I got there. Superhero moment. Anyway, to use a Wordly Wise word, house one was dilapidated. I almost made it out unscathed, but I bumped my head on the rusty overhang that led to the basement. Potential diseases acquired: Tetanus.
House 2: We drove from house one to house two. Logical progression if you will. The listing indicated house 2 was currently being rented. No big deal. They requested 2 hours notice before showing: Rea gave them 24 hours. “You see a car back there?” “Yeah, at least one.” “Ok, well, hopefully they’re not here, but we’ll knock in case.” It was at this point in the conversation we arrived at the front door. And heard a child crying inside. Awesome. So, we stood awkwardly on the front porch deciding whether or not to go in. We settled on knocking. Renter man opened the door. “We’re here to take a look at the house if that’s ok.” Rental man nods his head, opens the door, and proceeds to take off chasing his completely naked child who has just run through the living room. Good start. We make our way through the house quite quickly, but being sure to see all the rooms. Well, I take that back. I let Rea look at one room on my behalf. Primarily because there was a gentleman asleep in the aforementioned room. Potential diseases acquired: Tetanus. Naked people seen: 1.
House 3: Closing out day one of home-viewing, we went to my internet-favorite house. We go in through the (formerly) finished basement. The carpets were all rolled up to the middle of the floor. Flood damaged - Welcome to my home hunt. We proceeded upstairs. I liked it. Really, I did. I liked it a lot. I could handle the basement damage – it would give me a project to make all this HGTV viewing worth it. We take a lap around the outside of the house, where we casually discover that instead of putting gutters on the carport, the preferred means of water evacuation was to collect it in a giant heavy-duty receptacle. Seems it was full of standing water. Potential diseases acquired: Tetanus and West Nile. Naked people seen: 1.
Like I said, I really liked house 3. I tell Rea that I’m cautious to move too soon, but I did like it. She says she’ll look into it a little more and see if there are any similar listings. Within 2 hours, Rea tells me house 3 was theoretically sold when we looked at it. That’s not Realtor-speak for “You really liked it. It’s a good deal. I think we can make this work.” No, that means the house was sold when we looked at it.
This is going to be a good time.
Turns out, buying a house involves a little bit of effort… unless you just won Powerball. [Note: I discovered winning Powerball involves getting all the numbers right. When you get half the numbers, you do not get half the jackpot.] So, I got a real estate agent. Mainly so I could say I have a real estate agent, but also to facilitate the buying of a house. While I trust the safety of the worldwide web as much as anyone, I choose not to disclose my real estate agent’s name. We’ll call her Rea… Give it a second.
So Rea began sending me listings. Now before you get too excited, realize that the listings I was getting sent my way looked nothing like House Hunters on HGTV. [Note: Yes, I have watched way more than my share of HGTV since this process began. In fact, it’s on right now. Make jokes if you so choose, but I acknowledge my weakness.] My preferred home-buying budget led me to get a lot of listings that could have doubled an antique barn or perhaps a meth-lab. So from these listings, I weeded out the barns and started picking houses to physically visit. Old school, I know, but they don’t offer many virtual tours of houses that haven’t been lived in since a Roosevelt was president.
House 1: So I hadn’t met with Rea in person regarding the house hunt yet. As such, when I pulled onto the street, I felt a little bad that, instead of being greeted by fancy stone columns of a nice gated community, Rea would pull into the neighborhood with a Budget Brakes on her left and a Missionary Baptist church in the basement of a Discount Liquor on her right – Pillars of the community. Realizing this was a house I was looking to live in and these were the neighborhoods I might end up in, I stopped feeling a little bad... Until I pulled in the driveway and saw Rea in her Mercedes coupe. She got out and informed me she might have been a little scared to get out of the car before I got there. Superhero moment. Anyway, to use a Wordly Wise word, house one was dilapidated. I almost made it out unscathed, but I bumped my head on the rusty overhang that led to the basement. Potential diseases acquired: Tetanus.
House 2: We drove from house one to house two. Logical progression if you will. The listing indicated house 2 was currently being rented. No big deal. They requested 2 hours notice before showing: Rea gave them 24 hours. “You see a car back there?” “Yeah, at least one.” “Ok, well, hopefully they’re not here, but we’ll knock in case.” It was at this point in the conversation we arrived at the front door. And heard a child crying inside. Awesome. So, we stood awkwardly on the front porch deciding whether or not to go in. We settled on knocking. Renter man opened the door. “We’re here to take a look at the house if that’s ok.” Rental man nods his head, opens the door, and proceeds to take off chasing his completely naked child who has just run through the living room. Good start. We make our way through the house quite quickly, but being sure to see all the rooms. Well, I take that back. I let Rea look at one room on my behalf. Primarily because there was a gentleman asleep in the aforementioned room. Potential diseases acquired: Tetanus. Naked people seen: 1.
House 3: Closing out day one of home-viewing, we went to my internet-favorite house. We go in through the (formerly) finished basement. The carpets were all rolled up to the middle of the floor. Flood damaged - Welcome to my home hunt. We proceeded upstairs. I liked it. Really, I did. I liked it a lot. I could handle the basement damage – it would give me a project to make all this HGTV viewing worth it. We take a lap around the outside of the house, where we casually discover that instead of putting gutters on the carport, the preferred means of water evacuation was to collect it in a giant heavy-duty receptacle. Seems it was full of standing water. Potential diseases acquired: Tetanus and West Nile. Naked people seen: 1.
Like I said, I really liked house 3. I tell Rea that I’m cautious to move too soon, but I did like it. She says she’ll look into it a little more and see if there are any similar listings. Within 2 hours, Rea tells me house 3 was theoretically sold when we looked at it. That’s not Realtor-speak for “You really liked it. It’s a good deal. I think we can make this work.” No, that means the house was sold when we looked at it.
This is going to be a good time.
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