After concluding our housing blitz for the day, which included touring neighborhoods of DC that make you feel so unsafe that you're unwilling to get out of your car, which sent me into all sorts of deep spiraling depression about the state of our housing search and what it meant for our sanity that other couples could do in a day what we couldn't accomplish in a week. So I did what any mature adult would do and drove home unsafely in my car honking at people who were clearly just looking to turn somewhere that they were unfamiliar with. But worse, trying to turn somewhere in front of me. The person who is, as far as I can tell, the center of the known world.
Interpolation:
M: I’ve got to get dressed up before we go
S: What?
M: It’s the first time we’ll be meeting our new house. I want to look good.
S: I don’t think the house is going to care what you look like.
M: (Pause)…it might.
We spent the early part of the day looking at a house in a reasonable neighborhood for a decent prize with a toilet in the backyard.
M: Does the toilet convey? (Convey is the sort of word that you use frequently when discussing housing. As in, do the blinds convey? Does the hutch in the kitchen convey? Does the toilet thrown on the backyard grass convey?)
The upside of the house is that the ceiling appears to be suffering from some sort of water damage, and the hardwood floors were probably used for a brief time as an Indy car track. But, we need to talk about good things. The attic, which includes broken ladder access, something that should have been in the add, has two small beds and adequate crawlspace to chain up children. Mind you, only when they've been bad. The actual tenants had both kids sleeping in the attic and were using the second large bedroom as an office. "I'm sorry little Joey, daddy needs that little nook to look up grown up stuff on the internet, you'll be sleeping upstairs until you're seventeen."
Interpolation from a recent job interview
M: What is an acceptable reason for missing work?
Candidate: (Mulls it over) Swine flu?
M: Touche.
The house did have a backyard with a rusty chain link fence. I am a big lover of rusty chain link fences. Fences that allow you full access views of your neighbors old storage bin and trash cans. Again, a real plus. The back yard was also slanted, which is great for slip and slide, though it would lead you straight into cement. Kids need to learn to be tougher anyway. We then wandered into the basement where the previous owner was keeping a recording studio and I tried to break into my modestly speaking pretty damn good rendition of Whitney Houston's "I will always love you" (Josh back me up on this one) but was shushed by S. The basement was not the nicest thing in the world, but I could see closing it off and never speaking of it again. As though it were some outcast member of the family.
Friend: Oh, I notice you have a basement. Is that good for storage space?
M: (Lean in confidentially) We don't like to talk about him.
Friend: What? Is your tv down there?
M: Where?
On the plus side after visiting other portions of our less than fair city the original house looked positively inviting. Having police officers posted at all times on street corners did not lead me to believe that the parts of the city where we'd seen "cute" houses were up to snuff. Unless you were looking to sell it. So, though the interior may have included granite counter tops and maple cabinets, it seemed like they might be hard to enjoy while dodging gun fire on the way home.
S: I don't think I could live here.
M: But look at how cute the houses are.
S: Yeah, but I'd rather be alive than living in a cute house.
M: I think you need to reevaluate your priorities.
Thus, we ended yet another depressing day by learning of my sister-in-laws success in purchasing a home in a matter of minutes. Her and her husband decided to buy a house, and just did it. I'm now loathe to leave the house to buy potting soil with S.
M: I think this will do. (Hefts bag) If I can use heft there.
S: Is that the one with bark nuggets.
M: I think it has the longer chips.
S: I heard that the acidity is pretty high in that stuff.
M: (Puts bag down) Do you want me to get the soil instead?
S: Well, I'm just not sure I want the soil with the little bits of white in it.
M: I'm so depressed.
Interpolations around home-buying and whether it is okay for one member of the relationshiop to walk around the house singing the same song incessantly because it is stuck in their head. Note: Today it was "Proud to be an American" by Toby Keith. I have never heard this song in any context that was not ironic.
M: I'm proud to be an American because at least I know I'm free. (Note: Sung with vigor).
S: If I were doing that you’d shoot me in the head.
M: What if I switched it up a little, sang I’m proud to be part of a global hegemonic narrative.
S: The point is that I didn’t say anything.
M: Your pointing out that you weren’t pointing something out. Doesn’t that kind of defeat the purpose?
S: I’m saying that I’m not saying anything.
M: You're clearly the better person.
Interpolation:
M: I’ve got to get dressed up before we go
S: What?
M: It’s the first time we’ll be meeting our new house. I want to look good.
S: I don’t think the house is going to care what you look like.
M: (Pause)…it might.
We spent the early part of the day looking at a house in a reasonable neighborhood for a decent prize with a toilet in the backyard.
M: Does the toilet convey? (Convey is the sort of word that you use frequently when discussing housing. As in, do the blinds convey? Does the hutch in the kitchen convey? Does the toilet thrown on the backyard grass convey?)
The upside of the house is that the ceiling appears to be suffering from some sort of water damage, and the hardwood floors were probably used for a brief time as an Indy car track. But, we need to talk about good things. The attic, which includes broken ladder access, something that should have been in the add, has two small beds and adequate crawlspace to chain up children. Mind you, only when they've been bad. The actual tenants had both kids sleeping in the attic and were using the second large bedroom as an office. "I'm sorry little Joey, daddy needs that little nook to look up grown up stuff on the internet, you'll be sleeping upstairs until you're seventeen."
Interpolation from a recent job interview
M: What is an acceptable reason for missing work?
Candidate: (Mulls it over) Swine flu?
M: Touche.
The house did have a backyard with a rusty chain link fence. I am a big lover of rusty chain link fences. Fences that allow you full access views of your neighbors old storage bin and trash cans. Again, a real plus. The back yard was also slanted, which is great for slip and slide, though it would lead you straight into cement. Kids need to learn to be tougher anyway. We then wandered into the basement where the previous owner was keeping a recording studio and I tried to break into my modestly speaking pretty damn good rendition of Whitney Houston's "I will always love you" (Josh back me up on this one) but was shushed by S. The basement was not the nicest thing in the world, but I could see closing it off and never speaking of it again. As though it were some outcast member of the family.
Friend: Oh, I notice you have a basement. Is that good for storage space?
M: (Lean in confidentially) We don't like to talk about him.
Friend: What? Is your tv down there?
M: Where?
On the plus side after visiting other portions of our less than fair city the original house looked positively inviting. Having police officers posted at all times on street corners did not lead me to believe that the parts of the city where we'd seen "cute" houses were up to snuff. Unless you were looking to sell it. So, though the interior may have included granite counter tops and maple cabinets, it seemed like they might be hard to enjoy while dodging gun fire on the way home.
S: I don't think I could live here.
M: But look at how cute the houses are.
S: Yeah, but I'd rather be alive than living in a cute house.
M: I think you need to reevaluate your priorities.
Thus, we ended yet another depressing day by learning of my sister-in-laws success in purchasing a home in a matter of minutes. Her and her husband decided to buy a house, and just did it. I'm now loathe to leave the house to buy potting soil with S.
M: I think this will do. (Hefts bag) If I can use heft there.
S: Is that the one with bark nuggets.
M: I think it has the longer chips.
S: I heard that the acidity is pretty high in that stuff.
M: (Puts bag down) Do you want me to get the soil instead?
S: Well, I'm just not sure I want the soil with the little bits of white in it.
M: I'm so depressed.
Interpolations around home-buying and whether it is okay for one member of the relationshiop to walk around the house singing the same song incessantly because it is stuck in their head. Note: Today it was "Proud to be an American" by Toby Keith. I have never heard this song in any context that was not ironic.
M: I'm proud to be an American because at least I know I'm free. (Note: Sung with vigor).
S: If I were doing that you’d shoot me in the head.
M: What if I switched it up a little, sang I’m proud to be part of a global hegemonic narrative.
S: The point is that I didn’t say anything.
M: Your pointing out that you weren’t pointing something out. Doesn’t that kind of defeat the purpose?
S: I’m saying that I’m not saying anything.
M: You're clearly the better person.
and to think you wrote this without mentioning electrical
ReplyDeleteproblems, plumbing problems, drainage problems, and
the threat of termites
so many reasons to live in a closet or just rent..!!