My Sims House


It’s time for y’all to get to know me better. 


Things you already knew:

Prince, wearing midnight sparkly hooded cloak, performs a flawless smirk-and-twirl-away maneuver



Things you didn’t know:

  • I have a mild chocolate allergy. Basically, it only keeps me from killing myself with a chocolate overdose.  Also, dark chocolate burns my throat.
  • I’ve never learned how to do this “budget” thing—I’m sure it’s an important adulting skill, I just don’t have it.
  • I drink water all day long (important) but I have to flavor it like sweet tea or I would literally die of dehydration.
  • I can make a meal of some drama.  Petty, I know, but sometimes it’s just too damned good.


Like the Inspection, for instance.


Oh yes, that happened!  Lemme walk ya through it:

Knock! Knock! (comic-style)


I opened the door to find Scott standing there beaming at me like he was my buddy in all this instead of the leading contender for World’s Biggest Fuckup, but I still let him in along with the inspectors—Bob and the other one, whom we will call Bee because she was dressed all in yellow and kept buzzing around and also I don’t remember her name but I’m pretty sure it started with a B.  The point is, Bee is afraid of dogs (so sad!  Isn’t that sad?  Ooh, I get so mad at the humans who let that happen whenever I hear about people who grew up afraid of dogs) so we had to do some fancy maneuvering to keep mine always in a part of the house Bob and Bee weren’t inspecting. 


And by the time I got back from securing the dogs in their first room…



BOB:  (pointing)  Okay, so that fails inspection.
SCOTT:  (looking up from his phone)  Huh?
BOB:  The deadbolt.
BEE:  Yeah, you can’t have that.  Those are illegal.
SCOTT:  (totally floored that the house won’t just pass with flying colors)  …What’s wrong with it?
ME:  You need a key to get out.
SCOTT:  They need egress.
BEE:  In case of fire—
ME:  The one on the side door is the same.
SCOTT:  (glares at me)
BEE:  There’s one on the side door too?  (to Bob)  Write that down.
BOB:  They need egress.  With this on there, you could lock someone in this house and they couldn’t get out.  I mean, there’s the back door there (looks over at big sliding glass door)
ME:  (gleefully)  Oh, that doesn’t open.*
SCOTT:  It doesn’t open?
ME:  (sweetly)  I told you that the day we moved in.  And I put in all those maintenance reports, remember?
SCOTT:  (prays for my immediate death)
BOB & BEE:  (discover the broken fan in kitchen)
BEE:  (to Bob)  Write that down.
SCOTT:  (to me)  So what’s new?  Been doing anything fun lately?
ME:  Oh, you know.  Just settling in.  (to Bob and Bee)  Yeah, and that light doesn’t work and this switch doesn’t do anything.
BEE:  (to Bob)  Write that down.
SCOTT:  (begins to sweat)
ME:  (beaming)  Can I show you the outlets that don’t work?
BEE:  You got outlets that don’t work?
ME:  Oh yeah.
SCOTT:  (gives up, goes to play with his phone)




By the time we got done with the inside (doors and windows that don’t open, floors that are buckling, it was quite the list) Scott was clearly Over It and had to be roused from his position at my desk** to join us outside.


Where he uttered the second stupidest thing I’ve ever heard come out of someone’s mouth.



BEE:  Oooh, I see dead trees!  Write that down
BOB:  (nodding)  Two dead trees…
ME:  They’re all dead, actually.
BOB:  Right, both of them—
ME:  No, there are—
BOB:  (continuing around the corner)  Oh I see!  There are three, Bee!
BEE:  (shakes head, disappointed)
BOB:  (making note)  Dead trees… must be… removed…
SCOTT:  (catching up)  What are we looking at?
BOB:  These dead trees here.
BEE:  These have to be removed.
BOB:  It’s not safe.
SCOTT:  (defensively)  How do you know they’re dead?
US:  (turn to stare)
SCOTT:  (returns stare of earnest confusion)
BOB & BEE:  (continue inspection)
ME:  Because… we can see them?
ME:  See how all the other trees are green?  Because it’s summer in Missouri?  See how these ones… aren’t?
SCOTT:  (peers at trees accusingly, as though they shed their leaves yesterday just to spite him)
ME:  (catches up with Bob and Bee, who have just discovered another gap in the fence)



Bob said he’d never seen anything like it.  In total they found over twenty items that needed to be fixed before the next inspection.

massive stack of paperwork, stamped FUCK


Were we being a little nit-picky?  Sure, maybe.  Did Scott—the asshole who couldn’t even be arsed to schedule this inspection inside the timeframe he was given to pass one—deserve it?


You be the judge.



SCOTT:  Okay, cool.  Bye!  (waves and leaves like he’s not in a fuckton of trouble)
ME:  That guy…
BOB:  He is such a weasel!
BEE:  He’s an asshole.
BOB:  (to me)  I’m just glad you were here today.
ME:  (smiling)  You know I wouldn’t have missed it for the world.
SCOTT:  Yeah, but he was trying to get in without knocking.
ME:  (misplaces smile)  He what.
BEE:  (nods)  Mm-hmm
BOB:  Yeah, I was here waiting for him when he pulled up and he was saying he was sure you weren’t home—
ME:  Of course I was!
BOB:  Right, but he was saying it was fine because he would just get the key out of the lock box.
ME:  (frozen)  The what now.
BOB:  He said there’s a lock box and he went to get a key out of it to just let us in—and I was saying you were home and we should just knock but then he was over your fence and looking for the key—
ME:  I will fucking murder him and send the pieces to his family.
BEE:  I didn’t hear nothin’
BOB:  But I guess the key isn’t in there, and he said he forgot to bring one from the office so he couldn’t let us in.
ME:  But I.  Was.  Home!
BOB:  Right.  Which is what I told him and that’s why I made him go knock.
ME:  (chilled)  I can’t believe he was just going to break into my house!
BEE:  Mmmm… Bob, come look at this.  Does it look like this gutter is loose to you?
ME:  (grins)
BOB:  I thought we got all of them…
BEE:  Write that down.




* That door has a latch on the outside too.  So you can totally lock someone in this house and light it on fire.  Which means:

  1. This house was built by someone who learned from playing The Sims;
  2. I know have a better idea how the Meth Ghosts died.
Still from The Sims game, house with no doors or windows filled with fire; sim inside will die.

We’ve all done it.


** I have feelings about that, by the way.  There were other places to sit.  Or he could just stand there, like an idiot.  But you don’t plunk your ass down at someone else’s desk.  You just don’t!




18 comments on “My Sims House

  1. Victor K says:

    I … That … Gah!

    Even when we were renting I made a point of requesting lock changes on all doors. Hell, I’d pay for it myself if I had to. You never know if a previous tenant kept a key, right? Rental companies hate it because of the paperwork but our landlord was usually fine with doing the work.

    I kind of want to run this post past the building inspectors and by-law officers at work just to see them try not to start swearing at this guy.

    Liked by 3 people

    • According to my neighbor, they haven’t rented it to anyone since they bought the place. And there’s nothing I can do about them keeping a copy of the key—every landlord I’ve ever had insisted on that.

      But feel free to pass it around to anyone who will “get it.” Maybe if enough strangers hate him from afar, he’ll feel it and just quit, to be replaced by someone who answers my fucking texts.


      • Victor K says:

        Showed this to a few folks at work. The by-law officers (and a pair of police officers who were waiting to go into the provincial court) had a number of opinions on just how much punishment would be falling his way if he had just walked into the place. They don’t know the specific laws down there but you can expect reasonable privacy in a rented residence here. Also – yes, the landlord can have a key, but they can’t stop you from having a deadbolt latch (not the key kind, just a sliding bar of metal) on the inside of the door.

        When I spoke with the building inspectors they just kind of nodded and said that sounds about right. Apparently there’s a lot more of this sort of thing everywhere than most people realize. Take solace in knowing you’re in numerous company?

        Need to go and clean up the pumpkin patch a bit (yay! pumpkins growing for Halloween!) but then I’ll totally have a drink in your honour.

        Liked by 1 person

  2. He sooooo screwed *laughs with maniacal glee*

    Liked by 1 person

  3. bexoxo says:

    “…roused from his position at my desk…” I read that and my eyes instantly narrowed. You do not in ANY situation sit at someone else’s desk ESPECIALLY in there home. But obviously this guy has no boundaries as he was going to BREAK INTO YOUR HOUSE!

    Liked by 2 people

  4. I think sending pieces of him to his family is really the only logical thing you can do. I mean, He. Sat. At. Your. Desk.
    Draw and quarter the bastard.


  5. jen7iris says:

    If any situation called for nit-picking and pettiness, this one does.

    Liked by 1 person

  6. I’m low-key in love with Bob & Bee right now. You might want to ask them if it’s legal for Scott to be collecting rent from you while the house doesn’t pass inspection.

    Anyone breaking into my house would have to deal with the big dog (all bark), the little dog (all bite), and the cats — and there’s a reason one of the cats is named Guido.

    Liked by 1 person

    • Sadly, all of my animals (except the Stupid Cat) are more likely to cuddle an intruder than attack.

      But if he’d walked in two minutes before he knocked? He’d have been greeted by the sight of me running around in my underwear, looking for my pants while Alexander Hamilton unhelpfully nipped at my legs and tripped me. That’d teach him!


  7. Yes! FINISH HIM!

    Although I am a bit concerned he thought he could just walk right into your house. Very, very not cool.

    Tangent, I was actually afraid of dogs when I was little. I got chased when I could barely toddle–probably my earliest memory. Friends with dogs had to keep them away from me when I had play dates. I got over it as a grew up, but I admit I’m still a bit funny around really big dogs. Not anxious, exactly, just On High Alert. But I know it’s just my stupid brain and they’re actually good dogs and I tell them so and pet them and such.

    Liked by 1 person

    • Tomorrow’s post is for you. Also, I love that you grew up to think about your fear in a rational way rather than just accepting it and expecting a thing many people have in or around their home to just disappear.

      Be like Lucy, y’all!

      Liked by 1 person

      • Weerrrllll … my fear was pretty minimal at that stage. I have plenty of others that aren’t. I still do sometimes have panic attacks in crowds, and there are days where crowds are just a big NOPE from me. That said, if someone had a pet crowd in their house, I wouldn’t expect them to lock it up in the laundry when I came over. It wouldn’t be fair on the crowd. But on the other hand, I would probably ask to meet out to a cafe for coffee instead of sitting on on their couch surrounded by the crowd. If any of that makes sense.

        Liked by 1 person

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