Welcome to Howard Johnson!

Well, the crazy dude who agreed to do our floors? He found quite the surprise waiting for him underneath the carpets in two of the bedrooms. More carpet! Not just any carpet, but some amazingly hideous, mind-blowingly fugly mother-effin’ carpet! Check it OUT!

 

There are not enough words. The right words. What are the words? I can’t remember a time where I have been at a loss for words. But this carpet? Whoa. I’m thinking of taking a square of it from the heap and framing it in remembrance of what once was.

And you know what else? That shit was GLUED DOWN. Check it.

And the pile to go to the dump is growing. The carpets will be recycled!

There’s progress being made. We were able to pick a color really, really quickly. I got samples from Lowe’s and the guy matched it perfectly! The darker blob on the left was on an area that wasn’t buffed.

We’re kinda much so in love with it, we’re getting a quote on doing the kitchen too. I have a number in my head. It’s a magic number. Hope the floor guy feels magical.

A Pencil Edge in 35 Seconds

Holy SHIT this is hard.

Really hard.

And I’m not talking trying to figure what sort of edge to put on my granite counters.

Wait.

Yes, I am talking about granite edges. Who knew how many EDGES OF A COUNTER types there would be to choose from: full bullnose, ease, 1/4” bevel, 1/2” bevel, demi-bullnose, cove, dupont, pencil, straight and ogee edge. I decided this while sitting in a consignment shop on my lunch hour (looking for house goodies, specifically a half size church pew – that I actually FOUND but was already sold), using my phone to Google “edges of granite” in order to give my granite guy an answer in like, 35 seconds. And now when I take some time and research edges of counters (for crissake, when did I become so fucking domesticated?), I’m still happy with the pencil edge I choose. Just for the love of God, not a full bullnose.

See, this is what I’ve become.

The Painters will be finished tomorrow. The Candyman and I had a lil’ walk-through today. It looks like a completely different house. Wall paper is GONE. The Glowing Green Room is now a soft, buttery colored room.

I trimmed hedges this weekend. Like, real hedge kinda hedges. My forearms are SCREAMING at me. And we cut back the wild jasmine, so it wasn’t quite so wild.

Yet we have no idea when we’re actually moving and we haven’t packed a damn thing.

Cuz that’s how  we’re rollin’…. apparently.

So the other hard part? Keeping the bickering to a minimum. Oh. My. God. The bickering. I think we have, as a couple, perfected the art of bickering.

And it’s not even about granite edges or paint colors. It’s about driving like a moron to the Lowe’s or getting pissed because it’s hot and my car air conditioning isn’t really working all that well or we’re tired or scared shitless about the copious amounts of money exiting our accounts. It’s exhausting, all this stuff.

But it’s starting to look so good!

It’s worth the bickering, right?

It’s Not Buyers Remorse

It’s not.

But I feel like we are so far in over our heads.

The electrical is done. The finished that today. I can talk about it now. The electrical? The house was up to code,  circa 1964 when the house was built. Now? Not so much up to code. So we negotiated a tough deal and now we don’t have to worry about our house burning down in an eye-flash.

The painter is coming on Thursday, as is the granite guy. And I have a dentist appointment. The floor guy is coming on August 1st and the laundry room/half bath smells like piss.

Piss.

I nearly killed myself with Killz, a super-toxic kind of paint that kills smells.  You’re supposed to use those ventilation masks things, that I totally did not use. And thanks be to The Candyman, I didn’t kill myself trying to determine WHERE EXACTLY THE SMELL OF PISS IS COMING FROM AND WHY DID I TOTALLY NOT SMELL IT BEFORE????

I actually think it’s an ammonia spill on old wood that is the piss-like smell.

So can I say that this is NO Young House Love. We have NO IDEA what we’re doing.

I mean, it took THREE TRIPS TO LOWES to get our paint decisions right.

That’s SIX different color paints there. Seven if you count the trim color. The lightest one closest to the light switch is the color choice for most of the house. The dining room and living room will be a light grey.

This week we’ve pulled all the registers and switch plates off the walls. Interesting, to say the least. Some of the intake registers clearly show their age – 48 years of dust came out along with the painted-on vents.

We’ve pulled out a shit-ton of spider flowers from all around the house. They are beautiful. Look it:

However, these little beauties smell like skunk. No kidding. And they are prolific in their seeding.

I’m so worried about it all. The list is endless and the funds most certainly are not. My mom gave me some good advise today – to make lists of everything we want to do and prioritize and to keep the list a running one – that priorities change and morph. Right now, the details are killing me. The registers and light plates and bathroom mirrors and light fixtures and ceiling fans and how do I keep grout clean?

Lions and tigers and bears.

Oh my.

Never, Ever A Fruit Basket.

So as soon as the fat lady sings? Then? Then I’ll be able to breathe.

There is an electrical deal. There is a granite deal. There is a closing date FOUR DAYS away.

I swear, me and The Candyman might fucking implode upon ourselves if this isn’t wrapped up like, STAT. We are both wound tighter than drums and we don’t work very well when we’re BOTH neurotic. We need to take turns at being crazy. One week on, one week off. You know what I’m talking about, right?

RIGHT?

So we’re being uber-careful at managing the tension right now. The Candyman snapped at me this morning for  some minor Lula-flaw. Did y’all know he calls me Lula? Anyway, Mr. Grumpasaurus Rex shows up and gets all fussy. But, he called as soon as he got to work and apologized. See? Management. I lost my cool on Friday and caused all sorts of trouble ( long story involving a crazy and/or drunk tailgating motorcyclist, my middle finger and a very tense situation in the middle of an intersection. Oh yes. Shit could have happened. WHAT?). I don’t think I could have said I’m sorry enough times.  We’re managing as best we can.

Maybe me not so much….

BUT, that’s not what I wanted to write about! I wanted to write about great gifts. My realtor is going to need one. And she’s a woman after my own heart: single, late thirties, accomplished, cool, in great shape and did I mention single? She’s been working her butt off for us on this house deal and I want to get her a gift to say thank you.

But I don’t know her that well.

She loves dogs and yoga. She’s redoing her 1960’s house on her own. She knows so much about houses and construction and can speak halting Spanish to Pilo, the painter and work us a fantastic deal. She’s getting us a deal on our hardwood floors and our granite too. Cuz she knows some guys. Her electrician was at The House today. At no charge to us. Cuz that’s how she rolls.

I’m thinking a great bottle of wine. Or a massage at a nice spa. Or a yoga certificate. How do you buy nice gifts for people you don’t really know. I mean, maybe she likes beer. Maybe she doesn’t like strangers giving her deep tissues a rub. I’ll bet she already has a yoga membership.

I looked on-line at “great realtor gifts.” Fruit baskets? Really? They had other really lame suggestions. Except for one.

Referrals. Molly Zahn, Realtor.

I Knew It….

I knew I’d fuck something up by writing my last post.

We are SIX DAYS away from closing.

SIX.

DAYS.

So why, pray tell, are we still dealing with the fucking electrician?

The main feed of electricity into the house is not up to code with current standards. It’s not even up to code with standards changed over 20 years ago. It was a deal breaker on the Fix It List. We TOLD them that. They agreed. They SIGNED the Fix It List contract.

So the sellers brought in an electrician (on FRIDAY, more than a week after they received the Fix It List) who looked at it and said the current set up was grandfathered in.

Um. We didn’t ask you to tell us whether it was grandfathered in or not. We know it’s grandfathered in. We also know that you’ve got a gazillion volt source of electricity running under the floor boards of the house that was built in 1964. Basically, the fuse box isn’t supposed to be more than three feet away from the meter and it’s like practically in another state, it’s so far away.

We asked them to bring it up to code – that is was a deal breaker. And now they’re balking.

Actually, my money says it’s actually the realtor of the sellers being a total tool. I heard that she’s lost two other sales in the last week and if the bitch keeps playing stinky realty, she’s going to lose a third.

And we’re STILL arguing over granite.

And it shouldn’t even be an effing discussion.

In a nutshell, we’re losing our minds, me and The Candyman. And we’re waiting by the phone for updates.

I’m trying to numb my mind by watching Saturday afternoon reruns of Million Dollar Listing on BRAVO. I’m about to open a bottle of wine.

Buying a house shouldn’t be this annoying.