Garden

The garden is in full bloom! Well, sort of. Mostly, we're just eating a lot of lettuce. The seedlings didn't do so hot due to it being too cold in the cellar. Lesson learned. So, most of the garden was planted from seed. And once planted, it definitely grew fast! Here are a few of the pictures I have been promising forever, including the first things picked from the garden on the BAD ASS HANDMADE cutting board I got for $45 at the arts festival. In love. Enjoy. 

Boring house update for you...excitement for me!!

Guess what I did today?

The boy is ordering 2.5 tons (!!) of pea gravel and sand and digging out the garden next week. We are hoping for something along these lines as the end result, except with raised garden beds. And not so fancy of a path.

The plan was to do a bigger garden than this, but money just got out of control and we can't afford it. I plan to start seedlings for the early crops, like lettuce, in a few weeks. We are building a grow room in the cellar (yes, there were many jokes about this once we decided to do it) so that we can possibly keep some of the plants, specifically herbs, alive year round. We are going to use it initially to grow the seedlings and then figure it out from there. 

I will be posting in process pictures all next week. I AM SO EXCITED. Every seed listed above is an heirloom variety, meaning they are not genetically modified and were being grown prior to WWII. They are not commercially available, except recently at farmers markets. In other words,tomatoes that are so full of flavor and juice they explode in your mouth, as opposed to the mealy, flavorless, dry tomatoes you get at the grocery store.

I have never had a garden before. Or really had the follow through to keep much alive (plants, that is) for more than a few months. So, this is going to be a challenge.

On top of that, hooker is a landscape architect and is coming over to test our soil to see if we can grow herbs in the ground or need raised bed gardens for those as well. She is also landscaping our yard. For free. FREE. I am so excited to understand what plants I have and how to take care of them instead of just damage control on the 1800 mulberry trees that keep trying to grow. 

So be prepared for pictures and pictures and pictures as this all unfolds. Last summer was the year of keeping the yard under control...this year is making it look fucking bad ass. I can't wait!

Remodel Pictures!

Before I go on with my blog post, I just want to say that I am officially fucking fuck over political ads. I get like this every election year, but this year it seems worse. 

So, moving on, tonight we had our first fire in our new fireplace and it occurred to me that I never showed you all pictures of the remodel.

I would have posted before pictures so you could compare, but unfortunately, the boy had to recently redo my computer and I no longer have adobe, and all my before pictures are in a pdf file. Boo. 

Here is the link to the video tour if you want to look back. I am sure, though, that none of you really care that much. 

In the first picture there is a flower arrangement that NONE of you are allowed to judge me on. I am TERRIBLE at flower arranging and am actually proud of this one. I plan on putting glass stones in the bottom and cutting off some of the leaves, and trimming the stick things so they aren't so high, but this looks way better than anything I have ever done. So, just humor me and tell me it is awesome and I don't even care that I will know every one of you is lying.

Also, you can't take an in focus picture without pausing the TV. Who knew?

Anybody know how to keep hydrangeas alive?

Sometimes I find it really hard to write a post and then I go back and read all your comments and remember why I do this. So, thank you. 

On with the randomness.

Let's summarize the events of the past month of the new house. In no particular order.

Water main broke going into the house, causing water to literally shoot across the basement. City couldn't find water shut off. 

Tree falls on the house.

Said tree knocks off the chimney.

House FILLS WITH DUST THAT IS UNDUSTABLE OMG THE DUST.

We get city recycling! Woo!

Grandmother/ mothers need to use AOL; infects laptop with death. Laptop crashes. Oh, the crashing.

Work drives into a flaming building while on fire in order to put out the flames. 

I hit my knee REALLY HARD on the wall. This is sort of not that important, but, fuck that bruise won't go away.

Ohio exchanges places with the sun. I sweat out a kidney.

In summary...MAKE THIS MOTHER FUCKING SUMMER GO FUCKING DIE. NOW. 

A friend of mine posted a link on my facebook wall of a newspaper article about a house that burned down in my neighborhood. His comment was something along of the lines of "I assume this was your house."

To be honest, if I hadn't been sitting in my house when I saw the article, I would have assumed the same. 

I should be positive. Fucking rainbows and unicorns and shit.

And I am. I look forward to coming home everyday and watering the flowers on the front porch. I am so obsessed with my dining room table, I catch myself ogling it as if it was a Magic Mike commercial.

Which, just, can we talk about that? It's about damn time we got our Striptease. Right? I haven't seen it yet, but I am pretty sure my lady parts are going to explode. Sorry. I just realized I actually typed that. I am also going to leave it. 

But, I love this house, our house. It makes me ridiculously happy and it is slowly but surely feeling like my home. I am not there yet. But, I will get there. It feels good to be here. I love it here.

If shit could stop going wrong, though, that would be great. 

So, I am here. With a temperamental laptop and a dusty house and a well sealed off chimney. And hydrangeas I am struggling to keep alive because I am a terrible gardener and city recycling.

How are all of you?

Stormgate 2012

So. I have had a craptastic few days. 

It all started on Friday. Everyone at work was checking the radar on their phones, watching for a huge storm to roll through. All of a sudden, it got dark outside and the apocalypse rolled into Ohio. A power line went down with the wind, causing a massive fire in the middle of the street, right next to the restaurant. Wind blew me against a coworker, knocking both of us over. The news said it was a category 2 hurricane with 80 mph winds. 

I decided to drive home before the rain came. This was smart. I wouldn't have made it home otherwise. Power lines were down everywhere, trees blocked streets. I finally made it home to find a tree laying on my house. It split down the middle, causing half of it to knock off the cap off our chimney. We called the neighbor (it was her tree) and all was well.

Then round two came through Sunday. We stood on the front porch and watched as the tree knocked our chimney off our house. There was nothing we could do. Just watched bricks falling off the house as the living room filled with dust. SO. MUCH. DUST. 

All of this following THE WORST WEEK EVER. Last Wednesday, there was an electrical failure that caused the air conditioner, hoods, and walk in to go out at work. All three needed replacement motors and the hoods were down for three days. 

So, needless to say, it's been a crazy couple of weeks. 

But, today the tree got removed. And the masons came out today to temporarily fix the fireplace. And the neighbor is paying our deductible and it will all work out. 

The city is in a state of disaster. There are people without power until this weekend. People have lost their cars and houses to falling trees. I was down on campus and saw trees I couldn't put my arms around laying in the streets. The damage is pretty bad. 

And we just had a tree on our house.

I am grateful everyone I love is safe and happy. And really fucking grateful there isn't a tree on my house.

I left Big Jed a voicemail that was just screaming...here is why.

This is probably going to be a little scatter brained because 1. I have been drinking whiskey and 2. My brain feels like someone hit it with a sledgehammer and then poured some kind of acid on it. The kind that makes it hurt to think.

So, work. Work has been a disaster. I started my new supervisor position within days of starting the events coordinator position. With nothing more than "oh, this is your job now, good luck." I have managed teams of office professionals before, but for some reason this is different. I am overwhelmed. When I am truly overwhelmed I freeze. Deer in a headlights freeze. If I am on the line, my adrenaline usually kicks in before this happens, but sometimes it doesn't. And when I am also moving at the same time all of this is happening, fish out of water is an understatement. I have never coordinated events for a restaurant before. Or done anything remotely like it. There is no current system in place and I am coming up with it on my own. Poorly. I admit it. I don't have the mental capacity to organize all of these things and do all of them well. I am frozen. I come home and I can't even contemplate unpacking. I just can't.

This all came to a head today when I found myself, in the basement of our restaurant, in a screaming match with the owner. Because he made one more crack about how I am failing at communication and I just fucking snapped. I managed not to cry (rage cry, not sad cry) but I told him exactly what I felt about him putting me in this position and just fucking bailing on me. I was livid. I was disappointed in myself. I was embarrassed. I was so many things and I think I just needed to yell at someone. And being the queen of excellent decisions, I chose the person who writes my paychecks. 

It was the best choice I could have made. I feel SO MUCH better. To just tell someone what was really going on. That I felt worthless in every aspect of my life and this is just not like me. I am that person who runs circles around everyone else at work. Not because I want to be better or think I am better than them, but because this is how I was raised. You do the best you can, always. Being bad at my job has never been an option. I was a manager when I was 17 of a teacher supply store. I am that person who actually likes customer service and isn't kissing their boss's ass, I just like being good at what I do. 

I want my house to be organized, but I just can't bring myself to do it. I just can't. It doesn't help that I have worked 32 hours in three days. Which, speaking of, if anyone happens to know of a dishwasher that will actually show up for $10 an hour, I will completely make out with you. 2nd base and shit. Because, I am sick of working late because we can't find someone to fucking wash dishes. This is stupid. Also, I just assumed that you all wanted to make out with me which was very arrogant and I am fine with it. Oh, whiskey.

New House Observations:

• Living on cobblestone streets in houses that are over 100 years old has some downfalls...the one I notice most, in June, is that it smells like a fart. Old sewer systems suck.
• Another downfall, the boys car has already been broken into. Shit happens, for sure. And we will keep nothing in our cars. But, I hate that sense of insecurity. I spent far too much time in the suburbs.
• I walked to work today for the first time. It was the highlight of my day. However, I am definitely happy that tomorrow kickball starts at 6:00 pm so I have to drive. It is going to take some getting used to. Is it weird that I used to run 3 miles a day and walking 2 is exhausting? I think so. And I say used to, because that shit hasn't happened in a month. Moving is stressful.
• We are very close to a Children's Hospital and the amount of medical helicopters I see makes me sad.
• The amount of helicopters with spotlights is also sad. Oh, city living.
•  So far, I love the neighbors. I love everything about this house. I can't even put words to how happy I am to be here.
• The apartment complex next to our house is slowly becoming blog worthy material. While listening to a spousal disagreement, and audibly laughing at it, the woman said, "Do you hear that? Some bitch is laughing at you. That is how ridiculous you are." After that I pretty much lost my shit and wanted to become their best friends ever. 
• When it is 80 degrees outside, it is like 68 in our house. This defies logic. And I love it. The skylight in the upstairs bathroom heats the toilet seat to pain from 3 - 5 daily, though.
• The house tour is being uploaded to You Tube tomorrow so that I can share it with you all. I'm sorry. I required some editing from the boy that I didn't know how to do and he has been busy trying to tame nature. Nature is out of control in this bitch.
• The animals are so happy I can't even tell you. Short Dog plays ball every night after dinner. Neil moves from window to window stalking birds and plotting THEIR deaths for a change. And I haven't adopted a single stray cat. Yet.

I promise not to be so absent. 

I am alive

Internet is sketchy at best. I can't get a connection long enough to both write AND post about the house. Moving was easy, unpacking sucks, and my phone is my only source to the real world. I am so going over my data plan.

I did a video walk through but have to do some editing because of mirrors. I hope to be back soon, pending our stupid Internet connection being less stupid.

In the meantime, below is a picture of our 101 year old fireplace. That matches an oil painting left to me when I was a child. Everything just screams this house was meant to be. NOTHING has ever matched this painting. Nothing.

Reason number 712 I should not be a blogger.

AAAAAAAAAAAHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH!

I needed to get that off my chest. Only, I needed to actually scream. SCREAM. At the top of my lungs. 

Things are not great right now. Not bad. I am happy, safe, and healthy. I have a job and a house and a family and a cat that is trying to kill me. Everything is good. 

But, it seems like the universe is playing darts. On my face. Money shit. A couple hundred here, a couple hundred there. Credit cards are getting used when just two months ago we would have laughed at the thought of putting things on credit cards. We don't do that. We aren't those people. Yet, here we are. Charging away.

Work is like driving a train into an inferno of clowns all popping fucking balloon animals.(For some perspective, the sound I hate most in this world is balloons popping.) Events, lack of staff, and just general bullshit. 

EVERY SINGLE HIGHWAY WAS CLOSED ON THE WAY HOME. All of them heading west. ALL OF THEM. Do you how many stoplights there are driving through downtown and out to the west side? Let me tell you. SO MANY FUCKING STOPLIGHTS. I left at 4:15. I got home at 6:00. Fuck. Traffic.

I am overwhelmed by how unorganized the events part of my work is. Imagine taking your filing cabinet at work, emptying it on the floor. Then, set it on fire. Then put it out with, oh, honey. Then shit on it. Then put it all in a trash bag and let it sit there for two months. That is more organized than the events at my work. I spent my day returning calls from March. No, that is not a typo. I did not mean early May. I meant March. Needless to say, I got yelled at a lot today. I also got hung up on once. I did not book a single event. Which, for the record, I need to book to make my commission. I suddenly feel like someone selling ice to Eskimos. Eskimos holding better ice in their hands and glaring at me because my ice is made from water that someone used to wash their herd of donkeys. 

Remember how I don't do marketing? Huh. Seems like you are the only one.

And stress makes me ramble and talk fast and poor C got subjected to me tonight and I got off the phone and was like, FUCK. I am a crazy, rambling ass hole. He probably expected a 15 minute phone call and I hijacked his life for an hour. ASS. HOLE.

But, you guys, YOU GUYS...16 days. New house in 16 days. Yes, everything is happening all at once and the stress level is high. Yes, the boy and I may kill each other before then because of the stress. But, it is happening. We are moving. And I am thrilled.

I plan to do a video tour of the house for all of you. I am not sure that you care, but I am probably going to do it anyway because I am crazy excited. Mostly I just want to walk up and down the cobblestone streets and show you that yes, WE ARE MOVING SOMEWHERE WITH COBBLESTONE STREETS. And exposed brick. AND A MOTHER FUCKING WHITE PICKET FENCE. Soon. We priced them today.

This blog post was probably pointless. It appears that I ramble and type fast too. Hmph.

Bittersweet

I packed all the picture frames and decorations in the living room tonight. I know that this may seem early...we have a little over three weeks until we move. But, work is about to get real and I want to make sure that the boy isn't stuck doing it all himself. 

I am...sad? happy? A little bit of both. The walls are empty. I have spent 10 years making those walls look exactly how I want them to look. And slowly...I am tearing down 10 years. 

I don't think the boy totally understands. I am not really making a huge effort to help him understand. This place is me. It is my entire adult life. And I am walking away from it. 

And here is where I tell the story. The story I wasn't sure I would ever tell here. It's ridiculously personal in a way that I am not comfortable with. 

I am, quite literally, walking away. Financially, that is. I am foreclosing on my condo. 

My dad bought the condo a few months before my 21st birthday. So, I have been here for 10 years. (Yes, I have said 11 a lot, but that is just evidence of my math skills.) I paid all of the expenses and then bought it from him about 7 years ago. 

Since then, property values have soared (if I sold in 2008, I would have made about $40k) and plummeted. The neighborhood is getting questionable. The condo association is broke. Our basement leak? They don't have the money to fix it. We are starting to get mold. There are so many condos for sale, I can't even tell you. The walk I take to get to the track I run on has 6 alone. It's a 3 minute walk. 

If I put the condo up for sale today, the most I can hope for is retaining my mortgage for $20k. 

The condo a few doors down has been on the market for a year. 

I can't rent the condo because of the basement. Which the condo association has all but refused to fix. And I could never rent it for the amount of money that we are paying per month. The average rental price is about $200 less a month than our mortgage.

I have consulted a lawyer. The lawyer, after much deliberation, has advised that I take the exact action that I am taking. I am regarding it as a business decision. I say this partly because I want you all to understand that I have done my research. I am not walking into this decision lightly. And because I don't want any of you to worry that legally, or financially, I am at risk. That work has been done.

It is hard to put all of these memories in a box. It is hard to just walk away. I catch the boy wanting to fix holes in the wall and I think to myself, this house is going to be empty for years. YEARS. Nobody will buy it with the basement in the state it is in. Nobody wants to live in this neighborhood. And I can't help the waves of sadness that wash over me as I picture this home, my home, empty and abandoned. 

It breaks my heart. I know that I am talking, for all intents and purposes, about wood and drywall and paint. About an inanimate object. But, it feels real to me. I feel bad leaving my home. Just leaving it to a bank that is going to do nothing to take care of it. To, honestly, the only home I have ever known. 

I am so excited for the next step, for the next home, for making a home with the boy. Our home. 

But, I didn't have that house I grew up in. I had 7. I don't have memories of houses, I have never had a home until here. And it feels...raw. 

We close June 1st and the movers are scheduled for June 2nd. It is happening. Obviously, everything is going in the boys name. And we are selling my car. I am committing to 7 years with him (although I would commit to forever) because I will quite literally be at his mercy. My credit will be shot. I will have no car. I am someone who has been independent my entire life. This is, well, hard.

No. Hard  is the easy road. I am absolutely, bone chillingly, terrified. Not that the boy will leave, or that I will leave. Not that I will get stranded in this life with nothing. About relinquishing control. 

I find myself trying to control everything. And yet, controlling nothing. I feel so out of my element I can't even put words to it. My entire adult life, I was in control of everything. And letting go is not coming that easy. 

Being at someone else's mercy is just not me. It's just not who I am. And, yet, here I stand. I love and trust the boy. I want this life with him. I want that stupid white picket fence we are planning to put up in the front yard. I want the 2.5 kids. I am not holding my breath for the walk in closet.

Promotions, houses, and racism.

So...that kind of maybe promotion? Now it's a real promotion. With a raise. You guys, I am making a salary that is ABOVE THE POVERTY LINE. Can we just talk about how awesome that feels? I am actually contributing to our household again. Without revealing too much information, this increases my monthly income by 1/3. That is a pretty big raise. 

Unfortunately, this also means that I no longer qualify for a bunch of state-funded programs that I keep saying I am going to use and never do. But, dammit, I am getting that free teeth cleaning before my salary kicks in if it kills me. If only this promotion came with health insurance...

Anyway. I got side tracked. Seeing as how unstructured my work is, my new promotion is equally as unstructured. The owner has been trying to hire a marketing person for months to no avail. He just wants someone to coordinate all events at the restaurant, so now that is my job! I am not going to actually do any marketing because I have no idea how to market things. But, I am going to do all the food, coordinate all the events, and execute everything. I may or may not do a little marketing, but that is way down the road. I start May 21st, which is oddly enough, the date of the mead dinner I am coordinating.

This is a ton of responsibility and I am honored. And I am approaching this with a very can do attitude because  otherwise you will all yell at me. Because you're right and I'm wrong. I'm not just saying that. I mean it.

***

We had a somewhat final meeting with the current homeowner which has left me confident that this is happening. Holy. Shit.

***

Something happened to day at work that REALLY upset me. Our dishwasher during the day is schizophrenic, but medicated. He is in his forties, has 3 kids who he doesn't see, and lives with his grandmother. He is a nice guy that will do anything for anyone. He is also black. And he may or may not indulge in some recreational drugs now and then.

Today, I watched him get cuffed as he was taking out our recycling because someone reported an armed robbery in the area and described a "slender black man" as the suspect. We ran across the street and told the police officers that he was with us all day working and that this man would never hurt a fly. He does not own a gun. He has never owned a gun. He makes an honest living and takes care of his grandmother. Yes, he is mentally ill. But, being black and not quite all there does not a crime make.

I may or may not have called the cops racist dicks. To their faces. Yes, he was in a T-shirt and jeans, because he was at work. Where he washes dishes. And gets dirty. Yes, he could not sufficiently explain where he was that day. I do actually get that part. But, that was after you saw a black man crossing the street that fit your extremely convincing witness statement. Something tells me that doesn't warrant THREE COP CARS. Or cuffing an innocent man for no reason.

We got back to the restaurant and he was so embarrassed. I wanted to hug him. 

All three cops were white. And I was ashamed for them. 

Overwhelmed. So. So. So Overwhelmed.

I am in agony. We had the inspection eight days ago. It took 7 days for the owner to respond to our demands on what to fix. Which, let me tell you, were NOTHING. Not compared to the repairs that we took on. Then he comes back haggling over a mere $850 dollars and we are being stubborn. Because, fuck, we are THOUSANDS of dollars out of our comfort zone here. And I am going from excited to pissed. Fucking. Fuck. Pissed.

We may have to walk away. From this house that we have already in some weird way made a home. Despite both of us cautioning against it, we fell in love. And now we are sitting here, both of us knowing that last $850 is a deal breaker. Because that leaves us with almost nothing. That leaves us vulnerable. I am not sad, I am mad. This is often how I find myself reacting when I put myself out there and am let down. I don't get hurt, I get fucking pissed. And spiteful. It's silly, this amount of money. The haggling that is taking place right now is just petty and it PISSES ME OFF. Because it is important to us. And I am 99% sure that $850 is not important to them. If it comes down to it, will we walk away? I don't know. Maybe. It's not a good feeling.

All of this has lead to me not sleeping for (almost exactly now) 36 hours. Like, I did not sleep last night. I started to doze off around 5:45 and was up by 6:00 at which point I turned the light back on to read. My eyes hurt. Burn. I have been putting eye drops in all day like I was 20 again. 

Work is equally as stressful. I found out that I will be cooking food on Thursday that Hubert Keller will be eating. If you don't know who that is...pick a sport. Then pick your favorite athlete. Then play him in your favorite sport and tell me that you didn't almost shit your pants when the TV station dropped off the fucking fuck menu inserts with his picture all over the front. Tell me that you didn't almost hyperventilate when your plan was a fucking goat cheese crostini and you had THREE DAYS to come up with a dish that would make this man remember your name. Because, oh yeah, the owner put MY NAME AND MINE ALONE on this food. Tell me you didn't want to walk away and cry all day long because you hadn't slept and you were exhausted and overwhelmed. BECAUSE YOU WERE TOLD TO JUST COME UP WITH A QUICK, SIMPLE APPETIZER FOR PEOPLE TO MUNCH ON. Yes, I get that he is a man like any other man. Please don't patronize me with that bullshit. Because when one of your idols is about to eat your food, you don't give a fuck which leg he puts in his fucking pants first. You just want him to eat your food, raise his eyebrows, and say, "this is excellent." (there was a lot of "he puts his pants on like any other man" bullshit today that made me stabby. Clearly.)

And then tell me you didn't almost murder your coworker who called off for a hangover. !@#$!%!$!#$#!

I don't even have words.

I have gotten so much better at handling stress. This industry has taught me self control and to expect everything and nothing. It has taught me to just take the blows as they come and that tomorrow is a new day. It even taught me to sleep, because when your body is exhausted, it is hard not to. 

But, fuck, if everything doesn't come all at once and I am so overwhelmed sometimes it is hard to breathe. I am on the edge of everything I want. And I am SO. FUCKING. SCARED. Because what if it all falls apart? It is somehow harder for me to prepare for this. 

Because if it all fucking works? If everything turns out perfect? I can deal with that. I will have no idea how to and I will probably stare at things and excessively blink a lot, but that is easy. That is just easy.

It's really hard to be standing in front of everything you want and wondering when it will all get taken away. Because I am still a pessimist at heart. And I am thinking so many positive thoughts that I worry I will, quite literally, shit out rainbows. I am sending so much happy out into the universe it makes me gag. 

I just want all of this to work. For Hubert Keller to say, yeah, that was some good ass food. For all of the seven gazillion other things going on at the restaurant to work out (I can't share this publicly, but things are grim for the moment.) To get this house. To be able to afford all of the expenses that come with fixing up this house, moving, just being there.

I just want to BE THERE. In so many aspects of my life. I just want to be there.

Something tells me I won't be sleeping tonight either.

The hoarding story, as promised

I am a blogging fool this week. Also, that phrase just made me want to punch myself. I am leaving it so that you all also want to punch me.

Tonight was operation guest room. And here is where the hoarding story comes in. The guest room is kind of a black hole in our house. (Because we never have guests. AHEM. COME VISIT ME.) If we don't know what to do with something, it ends up in the guest room closet. If I get a gift that I hate, it ends up in the re-gift pile, in the guest room closet. If I have a pile of mail that is taller than me on the kitchen counter and someone is coming over for dinner, it goes in the guest room closet.

The only thing remaining in the guest room closet are the board games we want to keep (we got rid of about 25) and clothes. There was a point in time where that closet would barely close. And I was always terrified guests would open it and in turn hate me for my closet (ha! see what I did there) hoarding.

Out of it...we got an entire car trunk full of stuff for my dad's church garage sale, an entire city issued trash can full of trash, and about 4 boxes of stuff to actually keep. Oh, and all of our bookshelves are in that room as well, which is SEVENTEEN boxes of books. I love books. I really, really love books. (hoarding books)

But, the real hoarding tragedy is the mail. I have lived in this condo for 11 years. That is a long time. In that 11 years, I have never thrown away a single piece of mail. At first this was because I didn't have a shredder. (YES I REALIZE I COULD HAVE THROWN AWAY THE RANDOM CATALOGS, LEAVE ME ALONE.) Then I bought a shredder and it was too much. This is a thing of mine. If I get really overwhelmed by a project, I sort of abandon it. I do not do well when overwhelmed because I just don't know where to start and then I see something shiny and I am like, ooh, shiny and the project is forgotten. There is probably a therapist somewhere sensing dollar signs, but I prefer to just not think about that and find something shiny. Please don't diagnose me.

I went through EVERY SINGLE piece of mail in this house. I sorted them out into trash and shred, shredded them and this was the result:

Yes, that is in fact TWO 50 gallon trash bags of shredded mail. And three trash bags of junk mail.

My name is erratic. I am a hoarder. Please still love me.

Inspect this, bitch

I apologize for all the house related posts. But, as you can imagine, this whole process is kind of taking over our lives. 

We had the inspection today which went...OK. Obviously, the ideal is to walk away from the inspection with everything in the acceptable category. That didn't so much happen. The house was built in 1911 and remodeled in 1998. The remodel was done properly and all the electrical and plumbing are up to code, but there are just some odd things. Like a step that is 4 inches too tall. And the water heater and furnace are sitting on the dirt floor of the cellar. 

There were a few things that were a little more concerning. We need a new water heater. They closed up the access to the attic. Like, dry walled over the hole and we have to cut a hole in the ceiling. Because, you know, there are birds living up there. Birds that we REALLY don't want to lay eggs and have babies and then we either have to kill the babies (which I am not even sure they will do nor am I willing to do) or sleep with incessant chirping until fall. You know, because THAT is ideal. Maybe we can get some monkeys up there and have a live noise machine.

A few plumbing issues and other minor shit. Oh, and the dishwasher doesn't work. Like, won't even turn on. I get that we are doing this in a very non-traditional way, but I find it odd that nobody, renter or owner, even mentioned this to us. Because, you know, a non-working appliance is kind of key to know. I think the owner didn't know and the renter is kind of like "fuck these ass holes, taking away my home and shit" about the whole thing. Except he doesn't talk like that.

There is SO MUCH LANDSCAPING to be done. While all the boys wandered around the outside of the house, I took pictures of the landscaping situation. The back pretty much needs the grass taken out and re-seeded. It is 98% crab grass. The front is better...except for the random concrete in the yard. You know, that is good for lawnmowers. And there is ivy EVERYWHERE. Growing on the fences, the house (in very small amounts), the garage, etc. I am in a fight with ivy.

There is a rosebush. Now. I doubt I have told you the story of the rose bush at the condo...but when I moved in (11 years ago!!!) there was a rose bush adjacent to the front porch. The first few years, I thought it was pretty. Then it just became overgrown and I didn't know how to care for it, so I dug it out.

It came back the next year. I poured salt water on the roots (I read that this kills plants.)

It came back the next year. I dug it out again.

It came back the next year. You get the picture. And this thing wasn't just like, hey, pretty roses. It was taller than me. And it overtook the front porch and attacked anyone trying to enter the house. Sort of like the geese that try to kill me at least once a week. 

It could not be killed. The boy finally managed to kill it last year because I have not seen signs of it.

Until today. And it is growing next to the porch on the new house. 

You guys, I am being stalked by a rose bush. And I contemplated calling the police, but it will be hard to enjoy the new house from the insane asylum. But, it's the same bush. The same mother fucking rose bush that I know I will not be able to kill. And it is creeping onto the front porch to wrap around my legs, cartoon style, every day when I get home from work. 

Once again, everything fell into place with this house. There was a time in my life where I thought nothing good came easy. You had to work hard for everything. That saying is stupid. The boy and I came real easy. No relationship is without work, but the beginning; easy. I never even filled out a job application at my current job. Just got a phone call, went in for a 4 minute interview, and was hired. This house just fell in our lap. 

Yes, working hard is important, that is not what I am saying. But, the best things in my life have just landed on my lap, all wrapped up with a great big bow. Life is mother fucking good.

And thank you everyone for the kind words on the job front. I was not trying to confuse anyone...I honestly don't know if I am excited or not either. It is just an odd situation that I am going to take day to day. Because, really, that is all I can do.

We're moving. Holy. Fucking. Crap. Balls. We are moving.

Just...holy shit. This is happening.

Remember how I was excited about buying a house? I still am. It has been almost 11 years since I last purchased a home of any kind. I forgot the stress of it all. I forgot what it was like to see the numbers in front of you and go, HOLY FUCK I CANNOT AFFORD THIS. But we can. We are. We are doing this.

I had dinner with friends tonight while the boy read through the mortgage and all the contracts. I drank a beer while the boy spent an amount of money that could buy at least a car. I came home and he had taken a fair amount of tequila shots and beer and was hyped up on mortgage anxiety. 

We are doing this.

The boy is buying the house. This is a story I am not going to tell here, yet. Maybe ever. There are lawyers and a lot of shit involved with us selling the condo that are just, well, shitty. So, I feel a little disconnected. I feel a little sad that I am going to be a renter, in the legality of things. I feel a little sad to leave my home of 11 years. A home that Kobi grew up and died in. A home that housed Krackle and I. A home that held Kaya and Ally - Krackle's dogs. A home that holds so much of me. It's hard. It's hard to be going through what I am going through. So, yes I am ridiculously happy. Yes, this is exactly what I want.  But, I am sad. 

It is hard to talk about this because I am trying so hard to focus on the future, the new, the next step. I am writing garden journals and so many spreadsheets. I am trying to just get my mind off of the fact that I am leaving my entire adult life behind. In this one place, this one home.

I grew up moving a lot. I lived in 6 houses by the time I was 17. 9 houses before I bought this condo at 20. This is the longest I have lived in one place by, well, a lot of years.  At least 5 years. 

And I have always been in control. For 11 years I have had my house and my car and my things. This changes that. The house will technically be the boys. We are selling my car, so I will technically have no car. 

It is easy for me to focus on the good. The things that are going to be amazing about all of these changes, because, well, I have to focus on those things. If I start to think about everything else, well, I find it hard to breathe. 

I am so excited, I really am. I am just overwhelmed. I am scared. I am putting my faith in someone else and I don't think I have ever done that before, not on this level. I am in love and happy and trust the boy, but holy shit. I am about to give away everything that is me so that me can become us. And it is fucking awesome. Terrifying. But, awesome.

Signing the contract on the new house!

My imagination is spiraling out of control, here.

I have dreams of having a farm in the city. Not a farm the way America looks at farms now. No, just enough to feed my family. Live chickens clucking around the backyard making fresh eggs for my omelette. A goat to milk. Goat's milk cheese made in my very own kitchen. 

I imagine myself in a tank top and shorts, dirty knees and a sweaty face, pulling weeds with a grin from ear to ear.

I walk out to the garden in the middle of cooking dinner for friends to snip some thyme or rosemary. 

I pick strawberries in the morning to put on my cereal.

I see rows and rows of canned goods in the basement as the leaves start to change outside. Homemade salsa, tomatoes, carrots, peas, and beans. 

I see myself sipping iced tea on the porch after a long day toiling in the garden. The short dog lounging at my feet.

I never make omelettes and chickens are expensive. 

I don't particularly like gardening, but do like the spoils that come from it. It is more likely that the situation will turn into "I weeded the garden last time. It's your turn."

I don't eat cereal. I hate peas. And I would much rather sip a beer than iced tea.

I have to rein myself in and not take on more than I am willing to do. Is walking a mile to and from work unreasonable? No. Not at all. 

Is it unreasonable to gather the boy every Sunday and walk to the grocery store? I don't think so.

Is it unreasonable to think that in one week I can paint a whole house, unpack all the boxes, walk to and from work, walk to the grocery store, plant a garden, and shoot rainbows out of my ass? Why, yes. Yes it is. 

Moderation, Erratic. The garden can wait until next year. I am going to need someone to text this to me daily.

Guess What...

Pending an inspection, we got the house. At a price we are mostly comfortable with. 

Now to deal with all of the bullshit that comes with not having Realtor's involved. Mostly, just me googling a million things and the boy trying to crack protected PDF files so that we don't have to pay for the contracts. 

Holy shit, you guys. Holy shit.

Just this moment.

We put in a "final" offer. This is the most we can afford, the most. This is the last offer we will make. I am equal parts ecstatic and having an anxiety attack. Josey brought up a point that we don't want to be house poor and I feel the need to clarify.

This will not clean out our savings, nor will it put us in a situation where we can't pay our bills. We are going to look at things like our $760 a month food budget. WHAT? This is what happens when you live with/ are a chef. You spend ridiculous amounts of money on food. When you could easily just not. And still be happy.  Can I tell you what I can do with a $1 bag of rice, a $1 bag of dried beans and some spices? Because it is amazing and can make 6 meals. I just prefer extravagance. So, the food budget will be re-evaluated. We are also selling my car because I will now walk to work. So will the boy. So, we will have a car sitting out front for when we need to leave the city. Which, hopefully, is rare. 

I am saying that we will be house poor because we will no longer be able to spend whatever we want on whatever we want. We will have to be frugal. I want you guys to be excited, not worried. That is why I am clarifying. Also...can somebody please hold an intervention on our food budget? THERE ARE ONLY TWO OF US. Putting that on paper hurt a little.

On another note, the boy and I sat down at dinner and talked about other options. Options that included renting for a year in a one bedroom apartment (!!!) to save money so we have a larger down payment and thus can afford a slightly more expensive house. He mentioned moving in with my dad and I almost murdered him with a butter knife and a spoon. But, I agreed to consider it. 

Unfortunately where we are now is no longer a healthy situation (the basement leak they won't fix is going to end in mold) nor is it a financially beneficial situation. So, moving on is definitely in the cards. And hopefully this house is how we do that. 

In my head, we have already moved in. I have decorated the house and planned the garden in the back yard. I have planned many food adventures in the cellar. I have already hung art on the walls. I even know where NCH's cat box will be and where the toothbrush will sit on the bathroom sink. (We have one electric toothbrush with two different heads. Is this weird? As I read that previous sentence, it made me think this was weird.)

It will hurt to let this house go, but more than likely, we will. And I am prepared for that too. But, for a moment, just a moment, I am going to sit right here and pretend like this house is ours. 

To buy or not to buy, that is the question.

You know what is really frustrating? Making an offer on a house. You know what is even more frustrating? Falling in love with a house and watching yourself pay more money than you wanted to. You know what is even more frustrating than that? Wanting the house so bad you don't care, even thought that is the exact opposite of what you should do.

I am not built for this. I caught myself thinking, well, if we can't get him to come down further, I'll just get another job. Or we'll eat Ramen noodles. Or whatever. We can afford it. But, we are going to be house poor. Something we both didn't want to do.

Is it worth it for the house in the neighborhood you never thought you could afford? Oh, wait. That you definitely could never afford. A house that you both really, really like. A house that has exposed brick in the bedroom and a backyard screaming for a vegetable garden? Is it worth the cobblestone street you will live on? And the walking distance to work and the grocery store and restaurants and C's house?

I am impulsive where the boy is cautious. Everything about me screams, yes. BUY THIS HOUSE.

We love this house.

There are other houses. Houses for $30K less in a less desirable neighborhood. With no cobblestone streets, no exposed brick, a less than perfect back yard. Houses that would require a lot of work to fix up. Other houses.

Sigh. Next time we move, I am just going to let the boy find and negotiate the house and just find out when we move. I am far too insane for this process.

UPDATE: I can't resist. I just can't.

Why won't I just shut up about house hunting already? Oh, wait. Because I am me.

I realize that when I get excited about something, I become obsessed. It is all consuming and I can't do anything but think about this one thing every minute of every day. I do realize this. 

There are exceptions to infatuation, which is things I love. My job, my pets, the boy, my friends, etc. 

But, a lot of time things are just infatuation with me. I am over the top excited, then I am over it.

House hunting is both...it is becoming infatuated with finding something I will love. It's like a 24 hour Realtor website in my brain. All the time. I catch myself in the bathroom at work checking to see which house it was that had a claw foot tub without the shower attachment. And which house had a partial block basement instead of a full block. And which house had that adorable little shed and which house had the garage and poof. My brain exploded. 

There are three neighborhoods we are interested in. 

The super nice one with all the classy bars and nice restaurants and cobble stone streets.

The really nice one that doesn't really have bars or restaurants, but is just east of the super nice one and has cobble stone streets.

The nice one that is south of the super nice and the really nice one and does not have cobble stone streets.

All of them have advantages and disadvantages. But, they all have the same character we are looking for...built in the late 1800's to early 1900's, hardwood floors, hardwood molding (typically handcrafted), and of course downtown. In all three of these neighborhoods, we can both reasonably walk to work. Which means we can get rid of a car. Which is huge.

The problem is, we can really only afford the nice neighborhood. And even then, typically only on the side of that neighborhood that is kind of questionable. 

However, everyone has said to just drive around and look for "For Sale By Owner" signs. Usually those houses go for less and are the steals in all three neighborhoods. So, last Sunday the boy and I drove around, oohing and awing at all the houses for sale then coming home and realizing we couldn't afford any of them. No "For Sale By Owner" signs. 

So, today I decided to do the same and just peruse the neighborhood. And I found one! Our very first one. The house across the street is also for sale, about $100K over our price range. But, this house has clearly not been remodeled for a while, so hopefully it is going for much less and needs some work. I am very excited. Also, ALSO...COBBLESTONE STREETS. 

I know three people who live within a few blocks of each other in this neighborhood. I totally saw one of them while I was stalking. I waved and kept driving because I panicked. I looked way creepy. Then my phone rang and he totally called me out on it. Oh, I am so very awkward.