So, I’ve never seen “Rent,” but I’m pretty sure that’s the first line of that song about “measuring things in love.” Too bad that love has nothing to do with this blog… and everything to do with the amount of time it’s been since I actually posted. I think the last time we talked I was about to jump off the Hoan Bridge. It’s honestly been a pretty trying two months for me. Eric and I rode quite the emotional rollercoaster and hot damn if I’m not elated that we got off before I threw up all over his lap.
Let’s back it up quick. I won’t take long, Lord know I don’t want to live through it again either. So, yeah, we were supposed to close on March 12th… then March 17th, then March 19th — and finally March 27th. Well, let me tell you. NONE of those closing dates happened. The first three got pushed because the lenders were being douche-bags (sorry, Kim.) — I know they’re trying to protect their own asses — but really. There’s a crack in our basement they were concerned about — and rightfully so — but when they said our first AND second inspectors weren’t “good enough.” Frak.
I’ll set the scene: It’s March 26th. Eric is in Florida. The T-Ville apartment is packed up. Really. Packed. Up. No plates, no silverware, hardly enough toilet paper. Eric keeps telling me the closing for tomorrow (the 27th) is good, it’s a go, we can relax. Hardly. I wake up March 27th. Feeling good, ready for a weekend of moving. Oh yeah, we had the moving truck all set up for Saturday, the 28th. Minor detail. Eric’s parents show up at the apartment, ready to make the trek to West Bend for the closing. Then, Eric calls. 2 hours before we’re supposed to sign some damn papers. “Uhhh, there’s a problem with the paperwork. The seller says he never agreed to closing costs…” So, obviously, I’m hysterical at this point. I really couldn’t take another anything from this whole house deal. I was about ready to break. “Don’t worry, this will get cleared up, they know we are going home with the keys this afternoon,” Eric says. Fine. We still go out to WB, and sit at a bank… for two hours. Needless to say, the paperwork got caught up in Colorado or Texas… or in some bitch’s hands who didn’t get a crap about two late 20-somethings who WEREN’T going to have a home in four days. That’s when the thought of homelessness really crossed my mind. Sure, we’ve got parents within driving distance and friends, but still. Where the hell would I forward my mail? Uhh, the 3rd box on the left, please. Let me tell you. I was treated for depression after my Dad died — and I’m pretty sure what I was feeling during all this… was another bout of it. I kept telling myself that things will get better… we’ll get the house, someday… it just wasn’t happening soon enough.
Ok, so, no dice on the 27th. Eric is driving home from Florida, I’m moving everything we own out of our apartment and into a Penske truck. The other 1/3 of the crap is sitting in our garage. On a tarp. Sweet. Now, we wait. Monday rolls around, no phone call from Betty, the agent. Tuesday, we gotta be out of the apartment. Penske truck is still sitting in the parking lot and garage is still full of our stuff. Eric and I stay with our respective parents — and each commute an hour to work. Oh, and an hour back. Finally. Wednesday, April 1st. Fitting, no? Eric gets a call mid-afternoon. The paperwork is in and signed. The house is ours. Honestly, when Eric called, it was the funniest conversation (well, funny-not-funny.) because I thought it was an April Fool’s joke — and when it wasn’t — we were both so “eh” about the whole thing, that I think we were just glad that part was over. Neither of us really excited…it was pretty anticlimatic.
Alright, fast foward… we move things in, appliances come, plumber fixes some stuff. Bam. We live in a house. How friggin’ exciting. Now that we’re here, it’s still pretty unbelievable. We damn-near stole this house. I laugh inside, because we live in a nice neighborhood — and our neighbs look at us like, “what the hell are these kids doing in this house.” Luck of the draw, I suppose. We fell on something that was pretty much too good to be true.
So, with that stressful story (seriously, aren’t you taking a big sigh right now? because I just did.) behind us. Let’s take a quick tour. (Kim, this doesn’t excuse you from not coming out here… it’s way better in person 🙂 )
Here it is. Hotel Smithenreiter. In all its glory. The garage is on the right. That front window that juts out, is the master bath. The two windows to the left of that is the master bedroom.
Ok, here’s a closeup of that window. See the blue tarps? Yeah, we don’t have any window treatments yet. The lady who lived here before us, took them all with her. Hey, thanks. So, as we do research on what we want. We deal with tarps. The house went from a foreclosure — to a drug house. Sure the neighbors are pleased. We are. Ha.
Here’s a different view of the front. We have a three-car garage. For a third car we don’t own. Maybe we can rent out that third stall. Any takers?
Here’s a look from the side of the living room. You’re looking at the kitchen. See the odd heights of the cabinets. Those shelves in the cabinets are high. Yeah, I’m short. I need a step-stool to reach them.
Here’s the view from the kitchen. That room past the living room is a den/office. Eventually, I’d like to put up French doors. Like the tarps? Weeee!!
Some couples have babies or dogs or big plants. See these two pieces of stainless steel greatness? This is our pride and joy. Look at them. They are beautiful. We love them. And may or may not have hugged them after they were installed. Ha.
Ok, here’s the first bedroom. In the pic on the left, I’m standing in the corner — the door is to my left. Then, the pic on the right shows the first vanity — the two bedroom share a tub/toilet — but each have their own vanity. It’s called a “jack and jill” bathroom — but I’ve never seen it set up this way. Either way, fun, huh? Notice there isn’t a mirror? Yeah, lady took those too. Ha.
Alright, here’s the second bedroom & vanity… pic on the right is the tub and toilet the bedrooms share. This is currently “Eric’s bathroom.” He left me the master. Or should I say, wants his own bathroom space. I didn’t argue. 🙂
My other pride and joy. The first-floor washer and dryer. Energy efficient and lovely. I would do laundry everyday if I could. Oh, and if it meant that Eric wouldn’t think I had lost my marbles.
AHHH!! Sorry, that pic on the left just startled me. That’s the master bedroom. Yup, that’s an orange hideous wall. I don’t know what kind of decorating sense the lady before us had… but whatever it was, was glued to that wall. I’m pretty sure it was some sort of wod paneling. Either way, she riped it all down, leaving us with that. Blech. At least no one sees it but us. The pic on the right is the master bathroom. Squee! Whirlpool tub. Delish.
And finally, a look from our patio door. That’s half of our backyard. And a nice concrete slab. Just big enough for a couple of chairs and a table.
I left out pics of the basement. It’s big and undone and cold. That’s all you need to know. 🙂 Plus, I have to leave something to the imagination. Ha. Give you all a reason to come over for a night of fun. I’ll cook and we’ll drink and it will be glorious.
Alright, sorry it’s been the better part of a year since I posted. Hope this satisfies you… for now, at least 🙂
More pics to come. Maybe once we get some damn blinds.