House Huntin'

Please forgive me for including a picture of me with a gun. Maybe I laughed out loud when I considered the pun...maybe I just think it's the best picture ever taken of my backside.

It's no secret that I love the house we live in. It is clean and cute and kinda reminds me of a gingerbread house. Our only remaining neighbors (since we defeated the crackheads) untangle Brutus's line when he gets caught up in the bushes while we're at work, and they also have really awesome Spanish accents. (And we're not talking south-of-the-border Spanish. We're talking Spain Spanish. We're talking about the good stuff here.) It takes me approximately 200 steps to get to my sister's house, and it is exactly five and one-half blocks from my office.

The only problem with the house is, essentially, Obama. JUST KIDDING!*** But seriously. Gary received a job offer from Noble Drilling...and then three days later the moratorium was announced...meaning that if we were smart, we'd move into a cheaper place. Fortunately for me, we're both lazier than we are smart, so there's a good chance we'll get to stay where we are.

***I know I have some friends who are democrats. Please don't be offended. Personally I don't put a lot of stock in politics. I think it was those 5 years my grandma lived with us that did it. She was convinced that the government was tracking her every move because she was such an integral player during the Reagan administration. She also had a habit of doing the dishes at 11:30 pm so she could see what kind of trash we were watching on tv and then shuffling back to her room to email all her old church friends about how all her grandchildren were going to hell. May she rest in peace.

ANYWAY, we're not talking about the white house. We're talking about the house we went to look at last week. I came across an ad on Craigslist (which is a miracle in itself, since Craigslist generally makes me want to jump out a window) that said something about a nice house with an easy going landlord who's willing to reimburse tenants for any work done on the house. What they failed to mention was that without "any work done on the house", the place was practically unlivable, and that by "easygoing landlord", they actually meant "dirty hippie."

I knew the moment we stepped onto the sidewalk that we'd made a huge mistake. Something about the way the porch seemed to sag under the weight of that rocking chair just gave me a bad feeling. However, I figured the chances of escaping without being noticed were slim, so we knocked on the door.

I really can't even bring myself to relive the awkwardness that was this walk-through, so I'll just give you the highlights.

"Hardwood floors" that I can only assume double as an indoor ice hockey rink on the weekends.

No dishwasher. "But I've never had a problem with that." We have a big problem with that. It's called laziness. (Did I mention that already? Gosh. Hope no one's getting the wrong idea about us. In case I haven't made myself perfectly clear, WE ARE VERY, VERY LAZY.)

A "finished basement" whose carpet has been half ripped out because "something bubbled up through the floor, and we still haven't quite figured out where it's coming from..."

So you can see why we immediately rushed to the ATM to withdraw the money for the security deposit.

I started typing a bit of a screaming rant, but my primary goal in life is to avoid being fired from the nonprofit organization by which I am employed, so I'll save those curse words for the next time I arrive home to discover that Brutus has gotten out of his kennel, the 4 pin cushions my mom made me by hand have mysteriously disappeared (along with the pins), and there seem to be a few more floor boards visible than there were when I left the house.

I'll leave you with my three main points.

1) I hate looking for houses.

2)Just the thought of having to move all our possessions across town makes me feel like I need a nap.

3) There are times in my life during which I would relish the freedom to shake certain potential landlords to the point of severe brain damage. In this case, she didn't have far to go.