They're the people you don't meet
When chasing children down the street
The ones you almost want to beat
Each day!
So the Geekmeister and I are planning to upgrade the Maven abode this fall. It's not that we don't like our little home. It's not that we don't feel all cozy, snuggly warm in it. It's just that the gremlins are pretty much eating away my tolerance for any kind of background noise.
I used to be good at filtering out loudness. I could have a conversation with music blaring or traffic rolling. I could concentrate on a book while the vacuum was going or commercials were screaming product information in my ear.
Then came the gremlins and everything changed. I think the older two were born hearing impaired as a protective measure, as they also grew trumpets for mouths. It's never 'Hi, Intrepid. Welcome home from school!' Instead, it's 'INTREPID'S HOME! INTREPID'S HOME!! LOOK MOMMY THERE'S HIS BUS! HI INTREPID! *BANG BANG ON THE WINDOW* HI!!! *OPEN THE FRONT DOOR* HIIIIII!!! DO YOU SEE ME? INTREPID, YOU'RE HERE! WANT TO PLAY NOW?!'
It's not 'Gutsy, please stop bugging me. I'm trying to practice on the piano.' It's 'AAAARRRRGGGGHHHHH! GUTSYSTOPITRIGHTNOWORI'MGOINGTOTELLMOM! MOOOOOOOOOOOOOM!! GUTSY WON'T STOP - STOP IT, GUTSY!!! DON'T HIT DON'T HIT!!!! OWWWWW! OWWWW!!!!! *CRY* THAT'S IT! I'M NEVER PLAYING WITH YOU EVER, EVER, EVER AGAIN!!!'
When we bought this home, we had one child. The place seemed huge. We had an entire floor to hang out on when the boy was asleep on the other one. When he napped, it was quiet. When he was happy, it was peaceful. The idea of an open-concept floor plan was appealing back then.
The idea of an open-concept floor plan now makes my eyelid twitch ever so slightly.
We'll miss this house when we move. It was the first home we ever purchased - nearly eight years ago now - and it's fantastic in so many ways. It's bright and sunny, warm and inviting, and the only home two of our babies have ever known. In fact, Geekster has wanted to upgrade for about three years and I've adamantly refused. We don't need a big home, said I. We don't need to be consumerist pigs with our earth-destroying 2500 square foot house. Why be sheeple, Geekster? Why? Why would we want to have a big mortgage and so little money left over that you have to pimp yourself out for lattes?
Well, after a day of visiting model homes, I finally figured it out. This is why.
That's the tree-suffocating, energy-eating beauty of a house that I want to own in November when they build it for us. It's so perfect. So lovely. So... excessive. And I wants it, precious. I wants it badly, I do.
Nothing is set in stone yet, but it's looking good. We'll have to fix up our nasty-ass house, replace the carpets, do some painting over the demonic claw marks in the playroom, and somehow, magically, keep it clean enough in here that it won't repulse prospective buyers and send them screaming into the street.
I'd like to say I'd miss something other than the house, but I can't say that without giggling to myself. What's there to miss? Oh, there's the Tim Hortons down the road, but our new home will still be within walking distance (more walking to get there, but it also makes for more calorie burning pre-donuts).
Am I going to miss my neighbours? Not really, no. In the last eight years, we've gotten to know maybe five other people by name. There are the gaybours - the middle-aged male couple - next door. They're nice, but don't like our cats and have forced us to keep them indoors to save more shunning and glaring.
There's the nice couple next door who are expecting their first baby. I like them but they're not very talkative. They'll be even less talkative in a couple of weeks when their baby is born. They brought me a gift after Spawnling came earthside, though, so big props to them.
There's the guy across the street whom Geekster calls the Lawn Jockey. I call him Edward Scissorhands. He probably dreams of having shears at the end of his arms so he can manicure his precious lawn after making sweet, sweet love to it. The guy is insane and incredibly unfriendly. His wife, on the other hand, is quite personable. She looks like a middle-aged Barbie. Funny... She goes back to Europe to visit family every summer. And every time she tells me she might not be coming back. Maybe Edward's choice to fertilize the grass instead of more of her eggs is a bit of a turn off.
There's the grow-op house across the road. Ok, I don't know for sure that it's a grow-op, but let's look the facts:
- The couple who live there don't really live there
- The couple who live there - 'there' being a semi-detached starter home - drive up in a BMW SUV every few days and stay an hour or so before leaving again
- All the blinds are closed all the time
- The only other people who show up wear a lot of bling and drive equally nice vehicles
So you do the math. I'll take 'What does a grow-op look like?' for 1000, Alex.
No, I think I'll enjoy our new home in our new neighbourhood with our new insane neighbours. I'm getting bored of these ones anyway. There's only so many times you can make fun of the same people. Haha. He's watering his lawn again. Woop.
The Maven needs new material.
When chasing children down the street
The ones you almost want to beat
Each day!
So the Geekmeister and I are planning to upgrade the Maven abode this fall. It's not that we don't like our little home. It's not that we don't feel all cozy, snuggly warm in it. It's just that the gremlins are pretty much eating away my tolerance for any kind of background noise.
I used to be good at filtering out loudness. I could have a conversation with music blaring or traffic rolling. I could concentrate on a book while the vacuum was going or commercials were screaming product information in my ear.
Then came the gremlins and everything changed. I think the older two were born hearing impaired as a protective measure, as they also grew trumpets for mouths. It's never 'Hi, Intrepid. Welcome home from school!' Instead, it's 'INTREPID'S HOME! INTREPID'S HOME!! LOOK MOMMY THERE'S HIS BUS! HI INTREPID! *BANG BANG ON THE WINDOW* HI!!! *OPEN THE FRONT DOOR* HIIIIII!!! DO YOU SEE ME? INTREPID, YOU'RE HERE! WANT TO PLAY NOW?!'
It's not 'Gutsy, please stop bugging me. I'm trying to practice on the piano.' It's 'AAAARRRRGGGGHHHHH! GUTSYSTOPITRIGHTNOWORI'MGOINGTOTELLMOM! MOOOOOOOOOOOOOM!! GUTSY WON'T STOP - STOP IT, GUTSY!!! DON'T HIT DON'T HIT!!!! OWWWWW! OWWWW!!!!! *CRY* THAT'S IT! I'M NEVER PLAYING WITH YOU EVER, EVER, EVER AGAIN!!!'
When we bought this home, we had one child. The place seemed huge. We had an entire floor to hang out on when the boy was asleep on the other one. When he napped, it was quiet. When he was happy, it was peaceful. The idea of an open-concept floor plan was appealing back then.
The idea of an open-concept floor plan now makes my eyelid twitch ever so slightly.
We'll miss this house when we move. It was the first home we ever purchased - nearly eight years ago now - and it's fantastic in so many ways. It's bright and sunny, warm and inviting, and the only home two of our babies have ever known. In fact, Geekster has wanted to upgrade for about three years and I've adamantly refused. We don't need a big home, said I. We don't need to be consumerist pigs with our earth-destroying 2500 square foot house. Why be sheeple, Geekster? Why? Why would we want to have a big mortgage and so little money left over that you have to pimp yourself out for lattes?
Well, after a day of visiting model homes, I finally figured it out. This is why.
That's the tree-suffocating, energy-eating beauty of a house that I want to own in November when they build it for us. It's so perfect. So lovely. So... excessive. And I wants it, precious. I wants it badly, I do.
Nothing is set in stone yet, but it's looking good. We'll have to fix up our nasty-ass house, replace the carpets, do some painting over the demonic claw marks in the playroom, and somehow, magically, keep it clean enough in here that it won't repulse prospective buyers and send them screaming into the street.
I'd like to say I'd miss something other than the house, but I can't say that without giggling to myself. What's there to miss? Oh, there's the Tim Hortons down the road, but our new home will still be within walking distance (more walking to get there, but it also makes for more calorie burning pre-donuts).
Am I going to miss my neighbours? Not really, no. In the last eight years, we've gotten to know maybe five other people by name. There are the gaybours - the middle-aged male couple - next door. They're nice, but don't like our cats and have forced us to keep them indoors to save more shunning and glaring.
There's the nice couple next door who are expecting their first baby. I like them but they're not very talkative. They'll be even less talkative in a couple of weeks when their baby is born. They brought me a gift after Spawnling came earthside, though, so big props to them.
There's the guy across the street whom Geekster calls the Lawn Jockey. I call him Edward Scissorhands. He probably dreams of having shears at the end of his arms so he can manicure his precious lawn after making sweet, sweet love to it. The guy is insane and incredibly unfriendly. His wife, on the other hand, is quite personable. She looks like a middle-aged Barbie. Funny... She goes back to Europe to visit family every summer. And every time she tells me she might not be coming back. Maybe Edward's choice to fertilize the grass instead of more of her eggs is a bit of a turn off.
There's the grow-op house across the road. Ok, I don't know for sure that it's a grow-op, but let's look the facts:
- The couple who live there don't really live there
- The couple who live there - 'there' being a semi-detached starter home - drive up in a BMW SUV every few days and stay an hour or so before leaving again
- All the blinds are closed all the time
- The only other people who show up wear a lot of bling and drive equally nice vehicles
So you do the math. I'll take 'What does a grow-op look like?' for 1000, Alex.
No, I think I'll enjoy our new home in our new neighbourhood with our new insane neighbours. I'm getting bored of these ones anyway. There's only so many times you can make fun of the same people. Haha. He's watering his lawn again. Woop.
The Maven needs new material.