After only two months of rapid cleaning, packing up the dogs, and vacating the premises on short notices, the house has sold. I can’t believe it. I’m not in shock over the place where I spent most of my childhood no longer belonging to us (yet), but I am literally amazed someone wanted our house. Okay, our backyard was redone and looks awesome enough that I wish we could have lived here throughout the summer. But someone wants our house that’s ten different colors and is probably going to need a new roof and some remodeling. It was built from scratch so it was designed exactly for us, it’s hard to imagine the house would appeal to someone else. The kitten wallpaper from my bedroom may be long gone, but the exterior is still bright yellow. I honestly thought it would take a year and many drinks before my dad finally lowered the price to put things in motion.
Our realtor says it’s now a seller’s market. This past week someone who lived two hours away saw pictures of our house, got nagged by their mother-in-law to put a contract on it fast, and by the weekend they kicked us out of our house at 8:30 am, and again in the afternoon. They got the contract set up in one day and just like that, it’s almost over.
There’s a bunch of technicalities to iron out, and apparently we’re hoping for a backup contract. Which means I still have to be in clean mode. If everything goes well my parents are out in July, and I’m moving into my new apartment in June. I’m so excited to move, but it’s weird that my parents won’t still be in this house. Maybe the new owners will let me use their backyard?
When I was around five we moved into a little circle drive. I know we lived in the same area but I barely remember our house before this one. I remember being friends with the girl who lived behind us, but I can’t remember any of our other neighbors. Our cul-de-sac has about 12 houses in it, I could count the actual number but it is dark outside and I am lazy. Ours was the third house to be built so we’ve seen almost everyone move in. This way it was easier to get to know our small circle of neighbors. Most of the neighbors had children that I grew up with, but many of them moved once their children grew. Now, I only know the neighbors that have been around as long as we have. I don’t see the neighborhood as much as I used to when I was running around outside. I wave whenever a car passes me but I never know if I’m waving to a neighbor or someone who’s just using our circle drive to turn around in.
My favorite neighbor is one I never speak to. He actually lives in the duplexes across the street from us. We’ve known him for a few years but I can’t remember how it started. He’s an elderly African American gentleman who sits on a bench outside his house when the weather is nice. We live off a busy street and as far as I can tell he just sits there enjoying the weather, observing the traffic, and talking to joggers who pass by. One day we started waving to him. I think my mom started it while I was in the car and then I waved to him too. I’ve barely spoken to him since I saw him across the street but I always enjoy seeing him outside. We know his name is Artist, he has a big family, a nice wife, and various health problems. He can’t putter around in his yard as much as he used to but he still likes to sit outside when he can. Today was the first day I saw him outside this Spring and I hope to see him more.
My mom and I tried to restart our habit of drinking margaritas outside at Chipotle when the weather is nice but due to a “city ordinance” we can longer drink on patio. It’s shocking but in this battle of the outdoors vs. tequila, I think sitting outside is going to win. What are you doing now that Spring is here?
(Photo credit: Wikipedia)
So, my parents are moving. They aren’t making progress. Part of that may be my fault. I can only manage to keep everything off my floor for a few days at a time, or at least it’s after a few days that I realize that somehow all of my clothes are on the floor again. Or are still on the floor. I’m not really sure. I’ve been told that people who look at the house aren’t allowed to snoop in our stuff so I plan to throw everything in my dresser and nightstand as soon as we have an open house. It’s the same strategy I employ when we host family gatherings. There are also a million little details I don’t even notice that are apparently essential to selling a house. Okay, I get why we redid the laundry room. It’s been torn up since we tried to keep our first dog in there overnight. Re-grouting the tile floors are the current project and I can’t say I ever even noticed anything was wrong with them to begin with. Or why we needed to paint certain ceilings again. Or why the house can stay bright yellow but my room had to be painted a different green. I feel like I’m living in a Girl Scout Uniform now.
I don’t really get anything that’s going on with the sale of the house. Right now it looks like I’ll be moving out before they sell the house. I am trying not to focus on how much rent I could save by staying a couple extra months. Instead, I am reminding myself how excited I am to move. And I am so thrilled. Not with the actual moving process but I want an apartment, added costs and all.
I went apartment hunting for the first time on Saturday. I realized two things. One: I should not do important things like find an apartment hungover. I went through most of it in a daze and I spent all the time between apartments sleeping. This is the awful KU games fault, so maybe the solution is for them not to lose anymore. I don’t think I asked the right questions, not that I would have known which questions to ask anyway, and I was very lackluster. But as long as they didn’t know I was actually hungover maybe they preferred that to someone who seemed rowdy. The second thing I realized is that I should not be apartment hunting. I didn’t know the right questions to ask and I didn’t care. I wanted somewhere cheap and clean. I know there are tons of apartment horror stories, but I can live almost anywhere and I’m not picky. We’re in a safe area, its a convenient location, and we might be getting a cat. What more do I need? Sophomore year our suite living room had a hole in it. Right in the wall by the door. I kind of liked our weird eyesore because it showed how truly crappy those suites were. One of the parents fixed it though, and we got a fine for that at the end of the year.
We went to the cheapest apartment and I pretty much made up my mind. It wasn’t as fancy as some of the others but it was cute, it had enough room, and it was way cheap. Its my roommate who is more discerning. She was also more hungover. She missed apartment hunting all together and I can’t say she missed much. However, I did heavily plug my favorite place and even she was pleased by the price. On the bright side if my parents are still here when I move out I can come over and visit my dogs. As cheap as I am, they’d still be the main reason I came over. Maybe I’d eat some of the food when I’m over but I’d still play with them more.
My mother listens to a relator every Saturday, even before my parents want to sell their house. This week he said that planting yellow flowers outside a home is a great idea. The color yellow is supposed to stimulate an urge to buy in the subconscious. Our house is going to sell instantly. We don’t have yellow flowers. We have a bright yellow house. It was originally a pretty, very light yellow color that was so cool that no joke people pulled into our circle drive over the years and asked where to get that color (only two people but that still counts). Unfortunately, it retired or died or whatever happens to paint colors. So when it came time to paint again, my parents picked a suitable alternative. That turned out to be a bit more yellow than expected. Its bright. It’s almost neon in some lights. It looks like a canary in others. When the sun is shining it is a bright yellow beacon. It’s very fucking yellow. I wonder if too much yellow has the opposite effect of buying… which is not buying.
I know nothing about real estate. But I have heard that homes are supposed to be neutral and that includes the walls. I’m not claiming to know more than my parent’s real estate agent, but I do wonder how high she was when she looked at our house. Okay, a number of rooms in our house did get painted white because of some reason or another the realtor mentioned. Yet our house is still a rainbow. She didn’t have a problem with the dark yellow walls in the living room, or the bright red walls in the family room. I don’t know what the difference between the family and living rooms are but that’s what they’re called for some reason. No one uses our family room which is right across from our bright orange dining room. I love the dining room. It’s honestly my favorite room because it makes no sense.
We had an ordinary dinning room with white walls, a dark table and a giant hutch thing made of some wood I don’t really care about but looked nice. Then one day my mom decided she was going to paint these nice tables and chairs white. And the hutch thing as well. I thought this would make the pieces look cheap. She thought they would look cool and unique. We were both kind of right. And the dinning room went from white to orange. And then she decided there were going to be gold sparkles on the wall. The best part is that sparkles turned out terrible so they’re only on one wall. The hutch thing covers most of it but some of the sparkles are clearly visible if you look. I wonder if its going to be uncovered when people look at the house or if that’s just going to be a fun surprise for them.
So the realtor is actually a very nice lady and I mean the thing about her being on drugs as a good thing. Because I have no idea how our house is going to sell but she is so crazy and cheery and insane that I actually believe it might despite us and our bright yellow house.
What color is your house? Or what is the craziest room in your house or apartment?
It’s ten. My mom is asleep on the couch while I play chest and try not to focus on the Mentalist. I had a great game last night where my father didn’t slaughter me but won after a hard fought battle. It’s not that the Mentalist is distracting but that I hate it. I love Simon Baker, or I know nothing about Simon Baker but I think he is very attractive. And his partner is from Empire Records, but really what else does that show have going for it? Besides being a highly successful crime procedural, of course.
We all had a busy week. My parents are putting their house on the market in March. It wasn’t until this Saturday that I actually realized how soon March was. Selling the house in March was the plan from November, it’s just what we said. And now it’s happening. I’m not actually that sentimental about the house. It kinda sucks that now it’s as close to brand new as it was since twenty years ago when it was brand new and we don’t get to enjoy it. But I’m most disappointed that my dogs will be moving an hour away once the house sells.
I was going to move when the house sold. And by move I mean I was going to find other family members to mooch off, many who have already offered. I don’t know how to illustrate how cheap I am because there isn’t really a list of set things I do. I just don’t spend money whenever possible. And I find it’s possible a lot. But now I’m at a point where I saying fuck it. I’m always saving up for some point in the future, whether it’s an emergency or my current plans to move to LA. Except it’s not really saving, it’s hoarding. I don’t have a good relationship with money. It causes me too much stress and anxiety. And I’m finding that save for money I really do want to move into my own apartment. So yes I will have to spend money. Once I’m done cringing over that I’m telling myself that this will be a positive experience for me or other happy mantras I can repeat when I freak out over money. But it will be. And I can still save money for LA. And my roommate wants to get a cat and name it Princess Sparkle. So there’s that too.
A cute cat picture cures all worries.
Is it too early to start a New Year’s resolution? I’ve probably tried to use this one atleast five times in the past and I’m never serious about them anyway. It’s like how Lent used to be, I’d think of something to give up so I’d have that response when people asked but I never really did it. I’d say I was giving up pop, or chocolate, or pepperoni but really those three things were some of my main food groups when I was a kid. Plus, Sundays didn’t count so things went downhill then. I’d try for a few weeks then give up, and I cared even less about New Year’s resolutions. So while I’m not going to make it an official resolution I do aspire to stop biting my nails. I say this every few weeks, then my nails start growing out and I can’t help it. I bite them if I’m stressed, or when I’m not paying attention, or when I’m not doing anything else.
I remember in high school a girl said she could stop biting her nails when she had a role in the plays because her characters didn’t bite their nails. I had one role in senior year, Corrine. I knew Corrine was an alcoholic lesbian but nowhere in the script did it say anything about her nails. Who knows, maybe she was an alcoholic lesbian nail biter. It seemed just as likely as anything else. I tried the approach that ‘no my character didn’t do that’ but by opening night she definitely did. I’m a tiny, unassuming, generally quiet girl who usually worked backstage during shows. I came out in a short skirt, with a butterfly drawn on my chest as a tattoo, holding martini glasses. All I did was make sarcastic remarks and hit on another girl. At one point I was stroking her hair. My friends thought my performance was going to get our drama teacher fired. My grandmother said it was like no catholic school play she had seen before. No one was paying attention to my nails.
So, I don’t know how well my attempt is going to work this time. I was even biting my nails as I wrote most of this since it was on my mind. But, I’m going to try again.