Published: January 25, 2006
What is with all of this “buying” crap lately? I have bought a dog, fancy shoes, and a gym membership I don’t even need because my apartment comes with a gym. I did, however, buy something very useful this month. You can sleep in it, pee in it, and keep lots of booze in it. No, it is not a new bathtub, but a HOUSE. It does come with a bathtub and that is good.
How does one even buy a house? I’m still not sure. I found a real estate agent and demanded that she find me a very fancy house in which I could fill with expensive vodka and ramen.
“Of course we will find you a house! What is in your price range?” she asked.
OH I DON’T KNOW. ONE MILLION? TWO? NO, PROBABLY MORE LIKE A HUNDRED BUCKS, I replied.
Husband looked disgusted and took over from there. He selected several brick houses in Pensacola and then we kind of followed her around and looked at them.
The first house was very nice — from the outside. The closer we got to it, however, the worse it became. Three very grubby children opened the door and announced that their mother was still in the shower, and we would have to wait in the rain. While doing that, I noticed cigarette butts lying on every square inch of the front yard, carseats for babies, and overflowing trash cans.
OKAY, SO THE OUTSIDE SUCKS! I AM SURE I WILL BE GREETED BY SOMETHING FANTASTIC INSIDE! I convinced myself. After fifteen minutes, the door was finally opened and I was greeted by something: the smell of baby poo.
The grubby children had scribbled on every wall with markers and crayons, tiles were missing from the kitchen, the bathroom was a mess of dried hair gel and toothpaste, and toys and clothes covered carpet they had very obviously installed themselves.
Oh, and the stove? WOULD IT KILL YOU TO SCRUB IT ONCE A YEAR? MY GOD! Before I could excuse myself to vomit in their disgusting backyard, the mother told us “not to mind her” and changed the youngest of the three’s diaper. On the couch. No mat, no changing station, RIGHT ON THE DAMN COUCH. IN FRONT OF US.
Even Husband looked repulsed, and he doesn’t shower! “Uhhh… does the furniture come with the house?” he asked.
“Yes, it does,” she replied, busy with baby wipes.
OKAY, THANK YOU! WE’LL BE LEAVING!
I ran to the car and chainsmoked until I could breathe again. Then we proceeded to the next house. We drove down a real street, pulled into a real housing development, and then pulled up in front of an immaculately manicured lawn with a beautiful driveway. The house itself was red brick, brand new white windows, AND OH MY GOD THIS IS THE HOUSE.
I jumped up and down in the street and ran up the steps and they had a real DOORBELL and one of those doors with a piece of oval glass installed! I WANT THIS ONE RIGHT HERE! I screamed at Husband, who was still getting out of the car.
The very nice, very clean people let us in, and even though they had three children themselves, it was spotless. Not even a stain on the rug. I LOVE YOUR HOUSE! I yelled at them, and they retreated into the den while I picked out where my tables and all of my candles would go. “You like it?” asked the agent.
I’LL BE BUYING THIS PLACE! I screamed again, just in case the people had run too far away and couldn’t hear me. Then we left.
The agent ran a credit check, approved us, and the sellers accepted the offer of $97,000. “That will be $10,000 down, and $1,000 for escrow,” said the agent. WHAT THE HELL IS THAT, I said, and then went outside and told Husband to go pay for everything. I DON’T HAVE THAT KIND OF MONEY! Husband signed some sort of crappy papers, signed some more, paid some more, blah blah blah, and then they said we could close at the end of the month, and have the house at the end of February.
“Now we won’t have to live in that apartment any longer,” said Husband, as we left.
SHUT UP! I howled, busy making plans for babies and where their rooms would be.
Would you like to be my roommate? I bet you would, but you will probably accuse me of being an alcoholic, drink all of my liquor, and hog my PS2. Plus, I bet you will tell me to shut up and go to sleep when I am playing video games. If you do happen to see the flyer I put up for a roommate, DO NOT LOOK AT IT OR CALL ME, because then you will know who I am and I don’t want you touching my dog or my fancy door with its oval-cut glass. I DON’T WANT ANY ROOMMATES BUT I HAVE TO HAVE AT LEAST ONE, SO WRITE TO ME! If you are cool and don’t smell too bad, maybe I will consider you.
Just think of it. You, living with a crappy writer and her smelly husband? ALL OF THIS CAN BE YOURS, EXCEPT I DON’T WANT YOU!
(Please read the flyer.)