February 17, 2008
Or Not
Maybe this whole "happened for a reason" stuff is just a nice little saying that helped get me through a weekend that was supposed to have been different.
The sellers have counter-offered. We’re not at all liking the counter or the way they went about doing it. We very well may lose this house.
Tomorrow, the sign goes up in my yard. The rooms have been measured, the pictures have been taken and I don’t even know if I’ll have a place to live.
I’m trying to be positive about it all, but I seriously don’t know how much more disappointment one gal can take.
Oh well, at least my house is sparkling clean. . . for now.
February 16, 2008
A Reason for Everything
On Thursday night I walked into a house and fell in love.
Today, we looked at it for the second time and put an offer in immediately after. We knew we were up against one other offer. We heard from the sellers agent that ours is the better offer and are anxiously waiting to hear back from the seller.
If I was in New Orleans testing for my Shodan, I wouldn’t have seen this house because I would have been traveling or getting ready to travel. The other people would have this house and we would have missed out.
Maybe this is the reason.
Maybe we’re supposed to have this house.
Please keep your fingers crossed for us.
February 14, 2008
Kicking Myself
I am about 10 degrees away from being able to kick my own butt. That’s right. At physical therapy I hit 146 degrees this week. My PT said he could have made me hit 147; but I was already pretty much needing my mouth washed out with soap and the pillow just wasn’t cutting it as far as noise reduction goes. There were the ears of those who had recently undergone knee replacements to consider.
He measured my good leg and I can easily get to 155 degrees flexion. I have less than 10 degrees to go. Of course, I have to start being able to get there comfortably, but that’s a whole different story.
On Friday, I’ll be going to physical therapy again with hopes of getting into the very high 140’s. It was only months ago that I imagined I’d be up to something a bit more exciting on this coming Friday, February 15th. I had plans to travel to New Orleans, LA to test for my Shodan, and then the unthinkable happened on a night immediately after a friend and awesome martial artist told me I was "ready."
My instructors and at least one of my dojo friends are there. They’ll be working out in the company of stellar martial artists. They’ll be sampling the local cuisine. They’ll be attending a formal Yudansha test, where nervous 1st kyu’s will be showing their stuff like I had hoped to do. . .
I’ll be trying to kick myself in the butt.
February 13, 2008
Disclosure
Last night, as we were all loading into the van to go look at some homes, the always annoying and constantly unleashed cocker spaniel that belongs to one of my neighbors came tearing across the sidewalk and started jumping all over my realtor and his nice clean pants. It was snowing outside and the dogs paws were soaking wet. I know, because after she was done jumping all over my realtor, she started jumping up into my knee. That was before she decided to jump into my van, getting the floor soaked (with ice and snow, not pee, thank God for that).
This is the same dog that jumped up on me last summer and proceeded to pee all over my foot. Did I mention that the owner has not once apologized for any of these incidents? In fact, she acts more like we’re the ones in the wrong place at the wrong time.
As we finally got the dog out of our van and closed the doors, we all took a deep breath. "So," I said to my realtor, "do we have disclose annoying neighbors?"
If we did, we’d never be able to move.
Don’t get me wrong. We have some excellent neighbors where we live. We have a full-time Nanny/chef (who used to be the chef for the Bruce Springsteen tours) who constantly thinks about and brings my children special treats. Last time, she brought Big I sparkly red shoes, and stickers and special cookies for Lil C.
We have grandparents in the neighborhood who don’t get to see their own grandchildren as much as they’d like so they love up our kids. We have neighbors right beside us who own two big dogs who are always on a leash (one of them was our savior when we were car-jacked by the pit bull).
But we also have the cocker spaniel lady who can’t say "I’m sorry" when her dog pees all over you. The dog is constantly off its leash, running around the parking lot and our yards, jumping up with dirty paws on our clean clothes and driving us insane. In the summer, her dog jumped up on my very clean and very white Shureido gi pants. I wasn’t sure who I wanted to snap kick more, the dog or my neighbor.
We also have the neighbor that we lovingly refer to as "the local Britney Spears."
We’ve seen her wandering around the sidewalk wearing flannel pajamas and big fuzzy slippers. If the mood moves her, she’ll sometimes lay down on the sidewalk to soak up the sun or dirt or whatever. Often though, she’ll just wander around on the sidewalks, choosing to stay as upright as possible, so as not to spill her glass of wine or antifreeze. Sometimes during her little excursions, she’ll stand on the sidewalk in front of our house and blankly stare into our windows while trying to maintain her balance. Her balance could use some work. Her odd behavior doesn’t stop there.
She’ll frequently decide to warm her car up before getting into it. This, by itself, is not at all odd. Sometimes, however, she’ll leave the car running for hours, frequently with the door wide open. In the summer, it’s not unusual for both of her car doors to be wide open for days at a time, even during virtual monsoons. This is the same neighbor who chooses to leave her litter box air dry on our sidewalk for a few weeks at a time.
Recently she decided to take down the curtains in her kitchen. Since then, we’ve seen entirely too much of her, if you know what I mean. One of our neighbors has seen her entirely naked. I imagine he’s in counseling now. We’ve only had the distinct horror of seeing her in her bra and that was traumatizing enough. Britney may not be wearing underpants these days, but my neighbor is the topless wonder.
A few weeks ago, the police knocked on my door and asked me if I had seen her lately. Apparently, there was a 911 call from her home but no one answered at the door. It didn’t surprise me. This is par for the course with her. Eventually she must have answered the door, because the three cop cars drove away without having to break down her door. I can’t imagine it will be their last visit to her house.
Yesterday, she emerged from her house for the first time in weeks. She warmed her car up for about two hours before driving it into her garage and going back inside. Yes, she really is that odd. Now that I think about it, maybe she’s hibernating.
So, I’ll be happy to disclose that one of my windows sticks sometimes. I have no problem admitting that my microwave is a bit quirky. But I am zipping my lips when it comes to my neighbors. The previous owner didn’t warn us; and I’m not warning the next person.
February 11, 2008
Something to Panic About
The first nerve-wracking part of this week is now over. We have the pre-approval from the mortgage lender. We know how much house we can afford. We now know that we can build the house we want, with the options we want. We just have to choose and then sign the papers and put things into motion.
I’m excited about having my own walk-in closet. I’m excited about having a single-family home with a yard for the girls. I’m also really excited about having a basement big enough to turn into my own personal dojo without having to share too much space with litter boxes and abandoned toys.
Tomorrow night, we’re touring our "competition." Our realtor has set up a tour of several comparable homes to our current one for tomorrow night. After tomorrow night, we’ll know the exact number we can put on our house and officially list it.
Then it’s time to panic.
I feel like I spent my entire day following the girls around, picking up one mess after another after another. Lil C took a marker to my atrium door windows and glass fireplace doors today. Later, she took a pen to her sister and the ottoman in my living room. That was after she dumped an entire snack bag of cheese crackers onto my white carpet before deciding to stomp them into the floor. Did I mention that only one out of every three bites makes it to her mouth at the dinner table?
Lil C has also suddenly decided that she will intermittently go on the potty like a big girl, which means there is a constant half-naked little munchkin running around which terrifies me to no end. I don’t even mind when she tells me she "pooped on Dora" (in her Dora diapers) because at least that means it’s not happening on the floor somewhere. She is managing to make it to the bathroom every once in a while and while that is shocking, exciting and cool, this newly unbraced ACL recoveree isn’t quite up to the running that potty-training toddlers require their parents to do.
In fact, I’m not ready for a lot of things I’ll be needing to do.
I can not imagine showing this house at a moments notice. I think I’m going to have to tell my realtor I’ll need 48 hours notice and a babysitter if anyone is to walk in my house and not think it’s a trashed toddler fraternity house. Instead of crushed beer cans, there are strewn-about sippy cups. Instead of beer sludge on the floors, there are cheese and graham cracker crumb piles that will randomly turn up on chairs, under chairs and on carpet. Instead of hungover fraternity boys, you’ll see a toddler who refuses to change out of her pajamas for the entire day. Just call her "Heff," as in Hugh.
There’s also the business of all of our stuff. Since moving in to this home over four years ago, we have accumulated a kid and all her stuff, an entire other room of living room furniture, another dining table, a complete bedroom set for Big I and about a ton of new toys (We’re not even going to talk about the clothing and shoes that belong to various girls in this house). I seriously don’t know how we’ll move all of this stuff out of here. It’s tempting to sell the entire house and all of its contents and just start from scratch with everything.
Now that the panic has subsided about the mortgage, I’m sure something else will take its place. . . the prospect of owning two homes at a time, the stress of choosing cabinets, carpet, tile, exterior and interior colors of everything, choosing the best lot, the perfect model, and timing everything right.
There’s also, of course, the touchy issue of finding people to help us move. Mr. BBM and I have moved eight times since we got together so most of our favors are just about used up. I guess I’ll just have to recruit my readers.
Anyone?
Anyone?
Bueller?
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