Scaring Myself

 

If you know me at all—and you’re here now, so you might as well settle in and learn somethin’—you know this is my time.

halloween season

 

Which is to say I’ve been getting crazy busy with other things lately and totally neglected to explain how it was that I came to have someone in my house while I was catching up on housework while listening to my two soul mates tell me about all the ways I’m totally going to get murdered.*

screenshot of tweet reads, "Finally got someone 'round to fix a few things, and now I've got a strange man in my house making odd noises while I listen to @MyFavMurder and FREAK THE FUCK OUT every time he pops around the corner or bumps something. #excellentdecisions

 

 

Let me catch you up a li’l, k?

 

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Actually, He’s a Dick

 

I know you’ve been waiting to hear about all the exciting repairs going on around my house but I’ve got to be honest with you: I’m still trying to get them to understand that having a door that doesn’t open is a BIG FUCKING DEAL.

Crazy Pills

 

Seriously—and here I’m going to deviate from my intended topic, which is the Official Inspection, to tell you about the “handyman” they sent by to deal with: 1) a back door that doesn’t open, 2) a gate that doesn’t close, and 3) an outlet that doesn’t work. 

 

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My Meth Ghosts

 

Screenshot of Messenger conversation; I complain about ghost stuff and how Husband doesn't believe but Audrey would, Audrey replies, "Science isn't real. Ghosts are."

 

 

You see that shit right there?  THAT is why Audrey is a good friend.

 

Husband, on the other hand, is a jerkface an engineer and keeps arguing this point with me.

 

I’m about to invite every single one of you over so you can walk around this house and feel how fucking haunted it is.*  Because Husband is full of explanations for everything: I hear voices because of dog toys or the neighbors’ stereos, and I’m not used to the reflective properties of all this brick and tile after our last house (admittedly 80% wood) and I’m just scaring myself… blah, blah, blah.

 

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He Knows… Coffins

 

Summer, we are told, is DIY season.  So is fall, apparently?  They air the same commercial for every season, but the gist of it is that you should always be doing something to work on your home.  I’m mostly down with that, since we’ve got so very much to fix in this house – I’ve shown you the wallpaper, but I’m ashamed to show you the full range of carpets; that should tell you something about the level of ugly.  We’ve also got the usual furniture buying to do, which is complicated by the fact that I hate almost everything I’ve ever found, regardless of price point.  The world is full of things that are not what I want, and tables that are made for short people. 

 

In other words, we still don’t have a dining set, and are eating in the breakfast room.

 

Harrison Ford

Speaking of, does anyone happen to know Harrison Ford?*

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I Know Color

 

When we bought this house, like most first-time homeowners, we saw nothing but potential.  We saw the tall original windows, the large rooms and convenient (for us, for others it’s a weird maze with too many doors) layout, and our brains automatically overwrote all the ugly because we were certain that it would all be “easy enough to fix.”

 

Heh.  Tiles are not a small issue.  Also, in case it ever comes up in your life: a pink bathtub is not a small issue.  Nor is the pink sink and the pink toilet that go with it.  I am not even kidding about these things.  And then they leaked.

money pit tub falling

Shown: a disaster with more square footage.

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