I was speaking with a coworker, a lovely young woman the same age as my younger stepdaughter. We were discussing life foibles. She said that I was killing her dream that she would just all of a sudden have it together by the time she was my age.
I had to laugh.
That’s been the theme of many a blog post. Bemoaning the fact that my adulting skills didn’t come in like my permanent teeth or the crop of tinsel I have sprouting from my temples. The bride of Frankenstein ain’t got nuthin on me.
You have to read that last sentence like Denzel in Training Day.
Randy and I have both been renters our entire lives. The first home we owned is the one we are in now. We’ve been here nearly 8 years. While we have adopted a few changes in our habits, we’re still not very good at being home owners. We excel at being renters.
For instance, our central air. Three years ago, we turned it on when the weather got warm. It made a screeching sound that can only be described as “wounded baby dragon being eaten by honey badgers”.
Randy and I looked at each other and shrugged. I guess we don’t have central air anymore.
That’s not entirely fair. I mean, we would get it fixed or replaced or whatever, but our cars are vindictive twat monsters who break down whenever we get enough money set aside to take care of the central air. This has happened as recently as 4 days ago.
Anyway, in a fit of adult-like behavior that I often lack, I managed to cut down the cost of some monthly bills, including refinancing our car. The car that just cost all my spare money.
Randy and I discussed the possibility of refinancing the house. Is this a good idea? We don’t fucking know. I guess having a lower interest and cheaper payments is better than a sharp stick in the eye. So, without making any real decision one way or another, we agreed to look into it. By that, I mean that I looked into it.
So the next day, I did some searches and decided to check out a site that promised to show me what rates I could get for refinancing.
Oh yeah. This place. I’ve seen this place advertised. I guess it’s okay to put my fingers on my keyboard and give them the barest of information including my phone number. Okay, I hope this wasn’t a bad idea, I mean, I”m probably going to get some unwanted…
Before I could finish the thought, my goddamn phone rang.
Seriously. Within 30 seconds of pressing enter, I had people calling me who really wanted to help me get a better interest rate on my mortgage.
I am sure you more adultier adults would not have made this mistake. When I blog about not being good at being a grownup, I’m not making that shit up.
Andrew, the loan guy, was super excited to talk to me.
Not gonna lie, Andrew swept me right up. This was going to be great. We’d save a fortune. We’d be vacationing in Fiji and I wouldn’t be pining for my first pedicure of the season, I’d actually be getting one.
Then we got to the part of the discussion where we talked about the home inspection and the deposit for said home inspection.
Andrew: So, Michelle, tell me. Do you have any issues with your house?
Me: Well, the central air is broken. The front door is peeling. The yard pretty much looks like the Clampett’s yard before they struck oil. Some siding fell off last month. We’re missing some shingles and the hand rail going up to the front door exists, but only in a broken about to rust through and fall down kind of way.
Andrew: But you do have a handrail?
Me: Yeah, but I would think no handrail would be preferable. At least then you are aware of the danger. The handrail now is more like a booby trap.
Andrew: Okay, well, these things aren’t too much of a problem. Can you call a handy man or something? We wouldn’t even need to get the inspection for at least 29 days. Can you address these issues in 29 days?
Me: Yeah! sure, we can.
At this point, I was really just being polite. I mean, Andrew so very badly wanted to help us out and we had come this far. I couldn’t even bring myself to mention that the pilot light has to be re-lit a dozen times a season and the bathtub needs be be caulked. I guess. I mean, something isn’t right with it. The shower is fine, but if you take a bath, the water drips into the closet in the family room below the bathroom. Oh, and the broke ass koi pond. Although, really, that could be classified as a terribly interesting and terrify, sludgy ecosystem. If we are ever overrun by swamp monsters, it’s probably my fault. Sorry.
We ended the call with Andrew promising to send me paper work to get the refinance started.
I called Randy and told him about the phone call. We laughed about the whole “29 days” thing and decided that maybe we weren’t quite ready to refinance the house.
I couldn’t bear to disappoint Andrew on the phone. So I broke up with him by email. I did this for two reasons. First, because I knew he’d try to talk me out of it and conversations like that make me all sweaty. Secondly, because I felt kind of guilty for wasting his time.
I told him that we just weren’t ready to refinance. We would need more time to get our house ready and I would contact him if we wanted to continue with the refinance process when we were a little better prepared.
So far, I have 9 missed calls from Andrew. I haven’t listened to his messages yet. I assume, by now, he’s terribly worried about me. I mean, my own mother doesn’t try that hard to get in touch with me.
I’m sure sooner or later Andrew will give up and move on with his life. I wish nothing but the best for him. Seriously, dude, give it up. I am never answering your calls. Never.
In the meantime, pretty sure with this blog post, I finally made the “to-do” list we needed to make to get the house ready to sell.
I am so rocking being an adult.