Wednesday, September 30, 2009
And then I went in. Barely - because their two dogs were barking their little heads off at me. But I won, and made it into the great room - and by great, I mean, mediocre and stained with dog pee. This was my first thought: "______"
No, it wasn't a bad word. I don't think so. It's just that I couldn't hear myself think over the blaring country music they left on (maybe for the dogs?)
These things aside, I poked around the house, trying to determine if I could live there while avoiding things tumbling out of closets and cabinets. All the while fighting with two dogs who wanted to know why I was invading their turf.
What kind of bothers me the most is the thought that, you know what? Maybe I could live there. But I was so distracted by dogs/messiness/bad carpets/stinkiness that comes with having pets (I know all about it, but when showing your house?!) that I just wanted to get out.
Until I opened the walk- in closet and saw her collection of Michael Kors heels.
And then I seriously considered buying the house. But then I realized that she had them all in a pile ON THE FLOOR.
Now, I am a messy, messy girl. But even *I* keep my lovely shoes in their little shoe organizer in my rinky dink closet. So it made me wonder what else they had been ignoring in that otherwise gorgeous house. And how much it would cost to replace carpets and fix cabinets....
Until I saw the ridiculously huge radon system in the basement. The end.
Tuesday, September 29, 2009
Why just six, you ask?
Because. We just sold it. Yesterday.
Well, okay not exactly. But we did accept an offer (after countering) and our house is Under Contract.
Exciting, right? Oh, sure, it was nerve-wracking. And yes, maybe we did under price it. And I'm sure we'll have lots of people tell us this (as they have already). And I assure you that DOES NOT HELP EASE MY MENTAL STATE. *
You know, my mental state that is currently all confuddled because I won't actually have a place to live in about six weeks. So the house hunt is ON like DONKEY KONG. **
And also because, as my sister just pointed out, my closing is FRIDAY THE 13th. ***
* - Sorry for the over caps. I'm really excited.
** - Again, sorry. But hello? I don't have a place to live in six weeks.
*** - Surely this one too is a gimme, no?
Monday, September 28, 2009
Thursday, September 24, 2009
Not only have I been a cleaning mad woman, but I've also been a packing mad woman. You guys *know me* and my shoes. I packed away about 30 pairs - and most of my clothes including just about all of my sweaters.
I'm really, really optimistic.
So, our house went on the market on Tuesday morning. And today we have our first showings - back to back.
Thankfully, my beloved is staying home to work on cleaning what we didn't get to (mainly, the one room of the house that hasn't been packed/cleaned by me because the contents include things like "golf bags" and other such nonsense).
But, really, even I'm impressed by my house right now. My basement looks like you could hang out down there. Which you always could, I suppose, except that you'd have to pacman your way through boxes and crap everywhere. It practically looks empty right now. So much so, that I put a rug down. And a lamp with a table. I even considered getting a ping pong table.
I'm not looking forward to this being a long process. But, I am looking forward to a new house. A bigger house. One that can house all of my shoes (however, I've told J that our response for when people ask why we're moving is NOT to say "my wife has too many shoes to fit in our house").
So, while strangers walk all around my house today and judge me for my taste in furniture/paint color/carpet/curtains/wardrobe/shoes (at that point, no one can deny my taste, really), I'll be sitting in traffic praying that they like it enough to buy it when it's been on the market for three days. I can dream, right?
(I'll also be praying that they don't really open my drawers - because a) that's creepy b) they're a mess c) no one buying a house has any reason to look at my underwear. But totally just in case, I put all the Victoria's Secret ones on top, and the ugly cotton ones towards the back.)
And *if* they do, I will kick myself for pricing it too low.
And also *if* they do? And want a quick closing? I'll be homeless.
God, I hope I'm homeless at the end of October.*
*Note: God, if you're paying attention to this blog, first: thanks. Second? I mean homeless but with a pile of money to use as downpayment to a larger more fabulous house.
Wednesday, September 23, 2009
Tuesday, September 22, 2009
The wonderful Mollymoo at Exquisitely Wasted gave us this here award (I think it's because she thinks SJ and I are so demure and quiet about our lives and she just wants to know more about us). Also, I may have promised one of SJ's sisters that I would blog every day this week. I blame the fact that it was early in the morning and I hadn't yet hooked myself up to an IV bag of coffee. I wasn't thinking straight. (And SJ, I will cheat and not post if you do. How about we make it a "something gets posted everyday" week rather than "Kat posts everyday"? Good? Good.)
Oh, and just to make an incredibly long post even longer, I should explain that, although the rules of the award only say to share 10 things about yourself, I-- for some strange reason-- went with a job/career theme.
1. I have no desire to become a real estate agent (I don’t think I’d be great at negotiating deals), but I am positively addicted to real estate in general. I love going online and looking for houses for people (only people who are already looking themselves, I should add—I don’t try to persuade people to move). I may be freaking SJ out because every time she mentions a house she has seen or wants to see, I ask for the address and look it up online. The two of us may or may not have spent almost an hour on the phone recently going room-by-room through the photos of each of the five houses she had seen that day. I’m not admitting to anything.
2. I have never had any desire to be President. Or a nurse. Or have any career that would send me into the corporate world. Or do anything that involved science. Or be a flight attendant (I would not be able to keep a straight face in turbulence).
3. I spent a couple of summers and holiday vacations working as a waitress at a country club. It was a great job, for the most part, and it’s where I learned how to quickly and properly cut a wedding cake– a skill that has not really come into play for me since. The club members were all fairly cordial, but some of their kids were horrific and entitled. They liked to order the staff around as though we were their personal servants. I’m sure more than one of them was served an ice cream sundae that had been spit on (I never did it, but not all the wait staff were as classy as me…)
4. I have secretly considered getting my master’s degree and going into teaching. But not little kids. Perhaps at a college? Maybe someday.
5. I WILL flip a house someday. Although hopefully not one I’m living in at the time since I’ve done that and it’s not as fun as it looks. But how awesome would it be to turn something outdated and run down into a beautiful home? And maybe this time I could actually even turn a profit (the only flaw in the plan the last time around…)
6. My job in middle school and high school was as a soccer referee. I did it for seven years and made mad money. In fact, I worked weekends during the spring and fall and was able to take the summer off. I sometimes wish I had stuck with it (summers off sound nice…) Is it possible to become a professional town league soccer referee?
7. After almost two years of marriage, I still sometimes introduce myself with my maiden name. I blame my weekend job because I use my maiden name on the radio. It’s confusing for me. The other day, I introduced myself to a group of people as Kat Maiden Name…… Married Name. So it sounds like I have a hyphenated name—with a very long hyphen.
8. Although all our babysitters growing up were cool and let us stay up to watch television until the moment my parents pulled into the driveway (and sometimes we even got away with it), when I was old enough to babysit, I was the mean babysitter who made kids go to bed at whatever bedtime their parents gave me. I think I was just really stuck on the concept of following the rules at that age. That, and it was impossible to raid the cabinets if the kids were awake and watching.
9. My worst job was the summer between high school and college, when I worked in the kitchen of a restaurant (I had wanted to be a waitress, but the only position they had open was as the salad bar stocker). I was really ill that summer, but had recovered by my final day of work—the day I was required to peel and chop 20 pounds of carrots and then, as a finale, de-vein 40 pounds of raw scallops. It was the most disgusting job ever and my hands smelled like seafood for days. I swore up and down I would never work in a restaurant kitchen again (it may also have to do with why I don’t cook too often either. Ok, probably not, but I may have to plead “Post Traumatic Disorder” if the PH ever questions it…)
10. I’m living the dream, people. I recently found a cassette tape (and then found something that could actually play it!) that had my young voice playing the part of the DJ in between my favorite 80s hits. Even as a kid, I wanted to be on the radio. Then, as I grew older and worked for newspapers in high school and college, I wanted to be a journalist. Look at that! I’m a journalist on the radio! It’s nice when a plan comes together.
I think I'm supposed to "tag" people but I'm not going to put you on the spot. If you have a blog and want to spend a lot of time coming up with a huge list of things about yourself, go for it. If you don't want to, how about everybody leaves a story about their best or worst job in the comments and we'll call it even? Good? Good.
Monday, September 21, 2009
Wednesday, September 16, 2009
Monday, September 14, 2009
Thursday, September 10, 2009
Tuesday, September 08, 2009
Thursday, September 03, 2009
Tuesday, September 01, 2009
Really, this is mostly because my shoe collection has outgrown two closets and threatens to take over my life. And because more than half of my beloved bakeware lives in Rubbermaid because I don't have enough storage space in my tiny, though beautiful kitchen.
Which means, in short: we're moving.
As everyone knows, with moving comes a good deal of cleaning, house hunting, staging and the whole nine, since we will of course have to sell our house in order to move into a great big one. (Or, a slightly bigger than the current one and by that I really mean twice the size because let's face it, I am NOT going through this again.)
And with the selling comes a question: Do we have to disclose that our house is insulated in porn?
Oh? You mean I haven't shared that story before?
Well, yes. As it happens, our house is insulated in pornography. We discovered this five years ago when we bought the house and were putting in heat on the second floor. Just me (the youngest of three girls), my fiance at the time and my father - who, for the record, looks alarmingly like John Wayne, sitting around doing home improvements when lo and behold, my father discovered a stash of porn that could rival the archive of Playboy under the floorboards.
And with publications much, much more foul than Playboy. And when I say publications, really, I mean we found pornography in every medium possible and not limited to slides, photos, magazines, newspapers and soft cover (no hard cover. make your jokes now...) books.
As you can imagine, this is a story that often gets repeated when I'm sitting around having some beers with friends. Which is why, when I recently told one of my bloggy buddies that I was moving his reaction was: what are you going to do with all of your porn?
Another very good friend of mine suggested that the porn may in fact be a selling point.
I'm not so sure. In fact, I'm starting to worry that the next owners may discover the porn on their own and think me much more... interesting.... than I really am. I almost want to bury a little Vera Bradley note card under the floor boards that says:
Just so you know, this wasn't my porn. It was here when we moved in. And the color in the living room is caled "Irish Paddock" - I've left you the curtains because they match perfectly. Enjoy! And by that I mean the color of the walls. Dirty bird.