When one is attempting to close multiple estates, with multiple real estate locations.. the burden of deciding what goes and what stays laying squarely on your shoulders... and after a year and a half, it because... heavy, tiring, and just down right dull.
With the end in sight, I have one last decision to make... the Pink House... my grandmother's house in very desirable Berry Hill. Why it's the cat's meow, I dunno. I like her house. It's cute. It's in good shape. So I've spent the last year wrestling with the question: do I keep it or do I sell it? If I keep it, do I live there or should I set it up as a rental property?
Last week, basically on a whim, I decided to buy a house. Really - who decides to buy a house on a whim? Me, I guess. I saw one I liked and called my realtor and off we went. When I told the Associate Pastor's wife about it on Sunday (they've stepped up and are the best surrogate parents a girl could ask for), she was insistent that I remodel (that's because when they bought their house, they remodeled.) Remodeling it might be good if I plan to live there for 20 years.. or if I could do it myself and keep costs down.
Before I finish that story, I should tell you this story....
One of my best friend's came down from Clarksville for the weekend and she wanted to see the house I was interested in. We were going to eat a late lunch first but the place was closed so she insisted on driving by before we went to another restaurant. "Fine. I'll show it to you."Upon closer inspection on Sunday with my realtor, it is basically a dump - misrepresented the size of the rooms, how many bedrooms (they counted the mudroom as a bedroom because there is a bathroom and something that resembles a closet. Hello? This is a mudroom!) The bathroom would have to be gutted and re-done... blah blah blah. It's a no-go on that house.
We get there and another realtor is taking a couple through. Girl hops out of my truck and runs up to the porch to ask if she would let us walk through very quickly.
Realtor is dumbstruck and couple viewing the place just doesn't know what to think... until....
"Do you have a realtor?"
"Yes, we do. We were just driving by and saw it was open... thought we would ask..."
And.. then that look... the realization that she had just said.... we. Fortunately, they were hippies and probably didn't think anything of it. Have I mentioned that I hate hippies?
Back in the truck I said "Like I need any more instances of mistaken sexual identity in my life!" Anyway, it provided quite the source of amusement for the next hour.
Do you honestly think that I would willingly choose to move from a middle class neighborhood into a lower class neighborhood? Yeah. I'm a snob. Everyone I talked to in the neighborhood was very nice - just good folks. But, I'm not living there. And no one I know would ever let me buy the house across the street from the pair of duplexes that have 9 cars parked there.
But I did find one I like and will be doing a second viewing this week. I should tell you this story too... Duke Diva came with me and the realtor so that there was another set of eyes looking at everything. And we walked into the cellar and she said "PK!!! Look at the wall!!"
I look at the wall and there are bugs all over it. At which I do the appropriately girly thing and shriek. "PHIL!!! WHAT IS THAT BEHIND YOU??? OH MY GOD!!! Are those spiders??"Sunday night, I'm laying in bed, praying about the whole situation. I said "God, if I could just talk to my brother... get his feedback on it. That would really be helpful." That was at midnight.
"PK, those are crickets. It's cold and dark down here..."
"Well, they have to go! If they got in, things that are more disgusting can get in!" (For the record, we killed no bugs in the cellar of that house - which will make a fabulous place to keep wine!)
"The Chinese say that having a cricket in your house is supposed to be good luck... this house must be the luckiest house on the planet," Duke Diva said.
At 3am, while I'm awake suffering from a physical reaction to dinner the phone starts ringing. I scramble to get it and miss the call. And it's from the number that pops up when I get calls from Iraq. I sat there on the couch just saying over and over "Please call back. Please call back. Please call back. Please call back."
Sure enough, he did.
Since he had the day off, we got to talk for a whole hour. There is usually a 30 minute time limit. It was great. So I told UTMan about possibly selling the Berry Hill house. To summarize what he said: "Sell it. It's doubled in value. Get our money before the Planning Commission comes in and takes it because of Kelo!"
Then speaking to the realtor this morning, he suggested keeping it and using it for rental property. *bangs head on desk*
Well, that's where I am. Thanks for reading, if you are still reading and haven't stuck your eyes with hot pokers. I'm off to lunch.
