Why hasn't the Maven posted in over a week? I mean, she had a baby and posted a couple of days later. What on earth could she possibly be doing that's busier than that?
Last, last Sunday - as in the one before last Sunday - Geekster and I packed up the gremlins into the EarthDestroyer 2005 and drove around the city to look at homes. We saw many shiny, new developments and many other crazy people and their equally busy kids dashing through the model homes with nary a moment to stop and actually look at things. I'm assuming many deals are made with the ankle-biters rushing their parents through the signing process by doing everything but sitting quietly at the kiddie table, colouring pictures. I know that's how the home we currently live in was purchased. Intrepid was not a colouring book kid.
After examining the size of the yards, the additional costs and snickering at the people who were very loudly announcing what upgrades they could afford, we decided that buying new was not something we were interested in doing again. Pretty homes, yes. Potentially annoying/braggart/snooty/lawn jockey neighbours with homes so close to yours that you can catch a wif of what they ate for dinner last night on their breath, also yes.
We decided we already had a house attached to another house and very, very close to another house and backing right into the windows of another six houses, so there was no point in moving and spending more money for that pleasure. We'd just make our box of chaos a little less chaotic by de-cluttering and making better use of the space.
Besides, moving is stressful.
On the way home we drove by a house we'd checked out online, just for curiosity's sake. And, just for curiosity's sake, we decided to call the realtor and see if we could get in to visit the place.
But no moving. Moving is stressful.
Last, last Monday - if I have to explain what I mean one more time I'm going to get cranky - we saw the house. It was that brutally snowy day where I wanted to stick my head in a snowback and suffocate myself into warm oblivion. But I couldn't do that because we had an appointment. Instead I just made a stupid video and dreamed of a world where I didn't have commitments that would bring me out into the weather wrongness once again.
I walked into the house and instantly loved it. But you can't show these things. You have to act like you don't care or the realtor creatures will open your purse with their salivating mouths and suck your wallet dry.
Well, I don't care about your stupid house, realtor. I'm calm and cool and collected and feeling rather 'meh' about the whole thing. Besides, my wallet has wetnaps in it, which are wholly unappetizing.
"I don't want to pressure you," says Vampealtor, "but an offer has been made on the house already . The seller has until 8pm tomorrow to answer them, so if you want to also place a bid you'd have to let me know fairly soon."
Nice try, lady. The Maven doesn't get sucked into your underworldian bidding wars. She's not that interested in your house, remember? She doesn't care that it has a big yard and four bedrooms and a garage and is within walking distance to her son's school. More houses will come up for sale. Houses requiring less work, with more landscaping and nicer siding. So there.
And besides, moving is stressful.
Tuesday morning at 8:45, Vampealtor gets a message on her cell:
And thus began the hell that has been the last week.
The deal was accepted Tuesday. We signed the papers on Wednesday.
On Thursday we officially put our house up for sale. On Friday, Vampealtor came to take pictures, which she didn't end up using. It's a good thing I love cleaning up and stressing out for absolutely no reason.
On Friday we bought enough floating floor for two bedrooms. Mrs. Wailing and I blitzed through mass amounts of cleaning with enough caffeine in our systems to defecate weight loss pills.
On Saturday Jobthingy came over and washed my windows while admiring the eye candy neighbour across the street. I'm so glad I could offer perks on the job. I still owe him $20 for that. Our bedroom carpet was ripped up and Geekster and my brother, Chux0r, put in the flooring.
On Sunday I still couldn't walk in the house for all the stuff out in the great room. I wanted to cry and very nearly did. Instead, I made myself NOT clean for an hour (shocking in itself) and grabbed a coffee with Fallout Girl at Fourbucks. I then went on not one, but two trips to Home Depot, and decided that the cute little guy in flooring figured I was attempting to cougar his barely legal self by asking lots of questions on both occasions.
I wanted to explain that I really am that clueless, but I figured that would make me seem more like a would-be pedophile. Besides, I don't look old enough to cougar anyone, do I?
Please don't answer that. At least let me touch up my roots first.
Monday involved more cleaning and more trips to the hardware store. I am thoroughly sick of shopping. It feels like a very warm Christmas without the pretty wrapping paper. The good news is that somewhere in the last week, I managed to hit up Ikea and Walmart for many pretty items to 'stage' the house. Staging makes the home more appealing to buyers, they say. It makes them feel at home.
I don't really care about that. To me, it's an excuse to shop for beautiful items I would never buy otherwise and get to take with me to the new house.
Oh, and our sign went up on the front lawn. Made it all real and stuff. Gross.
Today - that would be Tuesday, and not last Tuesday or last, last Tuesday - I ran around with a teething Spawnling in my arms and assaulted various stains on walls with my best friend, Mr. Magic Eraser. It does such a good job that I'm attempted to use it on my cellulite to see if it gets rid of that, too. I swept, mopped, did laundry, cleaned areas of the house nobody will notice but me, and then nearly passed out in the Spawn's newly staged room while reading 'I Know a Rhino'. Thankfully he kept pulling on my lip and Gutsy was making up songs in a really strange key, so I managed to stay awake and make dinner.
Tomorrow, Vampealtor is coming to take pictures of the house and yard. We have a showing at 4:30 and another on Thursday at 6:00pm. Who are these people who don't eat dinner? Did they lick the caffeine sweat off my body on Friday to make them less hungry?
I hope the house sells quickly. I've been going to bed around 2am and waking up sometime around 7am so I can get straight back to work. The gremlins have all but found new parents who actually pay attention and remember to make timely, nutritious meals. I think I should buy stock in Magic Erasers, Nabob and McDonalds.
On top of the showing on Thursday, we have an inspection of the 'new' house with a professional, new carpet being installed on the staircase here and Gutsy's first school friend birthday party.
Have I mentioned that moving is stressful?
All this so we can get a fixer-upper house from 1946 with a half acre yard.
But it will be MY house with MY half-acre. And if we get it I shall do a little jig in the backyard, which you won't be able to see because it's so private back there.
I'm going to bed with visions of jigs in my head. And visions of Fly's new baby, too. A huge congrats to her and Frenchie. They apparently have beautiful genes!
Last, last Sunday - as in the one before last Sunday - Geekster and I packed up the gremlins into the EarthDestroyer 2005 and drove around the city to look at homes. We saw many shiny, new developments and many other crazy people and their equally busy kids dashing through the model homes with nary a moment to stop and actually look at things. I'm assuming many deals are made with the ankle-biters rushing their parents through the signing process by doing everything but sitting quietly at the kiddie table, colouring pictures. I know that's how the home we currently live in was purchased. Intrepid was not a colouring book kid.
After examining the size of the yards, the additional costs and snickering at the people who were very loudly announcing what upgrades they could afford, we decided that buying new was not something we were interested in doing again. Pretty homes, yes. Potentially annoying/braggart/snooty/lawn jockey neighbours with homes so close to yours that you can catch a wif of what they ate for dinner last night on their breath, also yes.
We decided we already had a house attached to another house and very, very close to another house and backing right into the windows of another six houses, so there was no point in moving and spending more money for that pleasure. We'd just make our box of chaos a little less chaotic by de-cluttering and making better use of the space.
Besides, moving is stressful.
On the way home we drove by a house we'd checked out online, just for curiosity's sake. And, just for curiosity's sake, we decided to call the realtor and see if we could get in to visit the place.
But no moving. Moving is stressful.
Last, last Monday - if I have to explain what I mean one more time I'm going to get cranky - we saw the house. It was that brutally snowy day where I wanted to stick my head in a snowback and suffocate myself into warm oblivion. But I couldn't do that because we had an appointment. Instead I just made a stupid video and dreamed of a world where I didn't have commitments that would bring me out into the weather wrongness once again.
I walked into the house and instantly loved it. But you can't show these things. You have to act like you don't care or the realtor creatures will open your purse with their salivating mouths and suck your wallet dry.
Well, I don't care about your stupid house, realtor. I'm calm and cool and collected and feeling rather 'meh' about the whole thing. Besides, my wallet has wetnaps in it, which are wholly unappetizing.
"I don't want to pressure you," says Vampealtor, "but an offer has been made on the house already . The seller has until 8pm tomorrow to answer them, so if you want to also place a bid you'd have to let me know fairly soon."
Nice try, lady. The Maven doesn't get sucked into your underworldian bidding wars. She's not that interested in your house, remember? She doesn't care that it has a big yard and four bedrooms and a garage and is within walking distance to her son's school. More houses will come up for sale. Houses requiring less work, with more landscaping and nicer siding. So there.
And besides, moving is stressful.
Tuesday morning at 8:45, Vampealtor gets a message on her cell:
Hi, V. It's The Maven. We saw the house yesterday, remember? We'd like to place an offer on it. Please get back to me as soon as possible. Thanks.
And thus began the hell that has been the last week.
The deal was accepted Tuesday. We signed the papers on Wednesday.
On Thursday we officially put our house up for sale. On Friday, Vampealtor came to take pictures, which she didn't end up using. It's a good thing I love cleaning up and stressing out for absolutely no reason.
On Friday we bought enough floating floor for two bedrooms. Mrs. Wailing and I blitzed through mass amounts of cleaning with enough caffeine in our systems to defecate weight loss pills.
On Saturday Jobthingy came over and washed my windows while admiring the eye candy neighbour across the street. I'm so glad I could offer perks on the job. I still owe him $20 for that. Our bedroom carpet was ripped up and Geekster and my brother, Chux0r, put in the flooring.
On Sunday I still couldn't walk in the house for all the stuff out in the great room. I wanted to cry and very nearly did. Instead, I made myself NOT clean for an hour (shocking in itself) and grabbed a coffee with Fallout Girl at Fourbucks. I then went on not one, but two trips to Home Depot, and decided that the cute little guy in flooring figured I was attempting to cougar his barely legal self by asking lots of questions on both occasions.
I wanted to explain that I really am that clueless, but I figured that would make me seem more like a would-be pedophile. Besides, I don't look old enough to cougar anyone, do I?
Please don't answer that. At least let me touch up my roots first.
Monday involved more cleaning and more trips to the hardware store. I am thoroughly sick of shopping. It feels like a very warm Christmas without the pretty wrapping paper. The good news is that somewhere in the last week, I managed to hit up Ikea and Walmart for many pretty items to 'stage' the house. Staging makes the home more appealing to buyers, they say. It makes them feel at home.
I don't really care about that. To me, it's an excuse to shop for beautiful items I would never buy otherwise and get to take with me to the new house.
Oh, and our sign went up on the front lawn. Made it all real and stuff. Gross.
Today - that would be Tuesday, and not last Tuesday or last, last Tuesday - I ran around with a teething Spawnling in my arms and assaulted various stains on walls with my best friend, Mr. Magic Eraser. It does such a good job that I'm attempted to use it on my cellulite to see if it gets rid of that, too. I swept, mopped, did laundry, cleaned areas of the house nobody will notice but me, and then nearly passed out in the Spawn's newly staged room while reading 'I Know a Rhino'. Thankfully he kept pulling on my lip and Gutsy was making up songs in a really strange key, so I managed to stay awake and make dinner.
Tomorrow, Vampealtor is coming to take pictures of the house and yard. We have a showing at 4:30 and another on Thursday at 6:00pm. Who are these people who don't eat dinner? Did they lick the caffeine sweat off my body on Friday to make them less hungry?
I hope the house sells quickly. I've been going to bed around 2am and waking up sometime around 7am so I can get straight back to work. The gremlins have all but found new parents who actually pay attention and remember to make timely, nutritious meals. I think I should buy stock in Magic Erasers, Nabob and McDonalds.
On top of the showing on Thursday, we have an inspection of the 'new' house with a professional, new carpet being installed on the staircase here and Gutsy's first school friend birthday party.
Have I mentioned that moving is stressful?
All this so we can get a fixer-upper house from 1946 with a half acre yard.
But it will be MY house with MY half-acre. And if we get it I shall do a little jig in the backyard, which you won't be able to see because it's so private back there.
I'm going to bed with visions of jigs in my head. And visions of Fly's new baby, too. A huge congrats to her and Frenchie. They apparently have beautiful genes!