After making a slightly drunken offer on a completely inappropriate house last weekend, Randy and I regrouped and went hunting for a house today.
Randy looked at 5 houses today while I was at work and found two that he sounded excited about.
I wish I could convey how very much it takes for Randy to sound excited, so if he sounded excited, then I felt some relief that perhaps we won’t be homeless after all.
So, I left work an hour early to see the two houses Randy liked.
Both houses are in the same neighborhood, which is about 45 minutes south from where we live now.
We were driving during rush hour, which I kind of wanted because my commute will at least triple in time and I wanted to get a feel for how long it would take to get home from work in the evening.
We merged from the exit ramp onto I-75 south and Randy glanced over at me.
Randy usually checks to make sure I have my seat belt on. Almost always, I don’t.
I am not seat belt averse, I just forget to put it on because my car is only nosy about whether or not I am wearing my seat belt if I am driving and I am reminded to put it on by the annoying seat belt alarm. My car does not have an opinion about the passenger wearing a seat belt.
Me: Were you checking if I have my seat belt on? Because I do.
Randy: I sort of checked if you had your seat belt on.
Me: You can’t sort of check for something. Either you checked or you didn’t.
Randy: Well, I just really like the way your boobs look when you have your seat belt on.
Me: Hey? Hey! You mean, for all these years when you nag me about my seat belt, it starts by you looking over at me because you like the way my boobs look with my seat belt on?
Then I laughed until I cried.
Me: That’s the funniest thing ever. I mean, I thought, all these years, that you were checking for my safety, but you were just being a lech.
Randy: Well, I do want you to be safe. But I also like looking at you with a seat belt on.
We drove by the first house an hour before our appointed time, rush hour traffic wasn’t bad at all. This is a holiday week, though, traffic is usually light on a holiday week.
We passed a little microbrewery on the way in, so we went back to hang out there for a bit.
The seating area consisted of a small bar and 3 or 4 tables.
Randy listened in while people at the bar talked music and I could feel him getting getting twitchy. If there is a conversation about music going on anywhere near Randy, then he really wants to join in.
So, that is how we met Paul, one of the owners of the brewery.
Within five minutes of meeting Paul, he picked up a wooden chair and balanced it on his chin. He explained that he went to clown college and traveled with the circus for years as a clown, which was pretty cool because I have never met a professional clown before.
Randy went up to the bar to settle up and I told Paul we were looking at houses in the area. He was very enthusiastic about the little river town. I told him that we were hoping to buy our death house.
His face lit up.
Paul: I have an idea for a business. A euthanasia idea. When you get really old and just don’t want to be here anymore, then I can shoot you out of a cannon. It will be spectacular.
Me: That would be a really interesting and disturbing way for a very old person to die. I’m in.
Me: I’ve known you for five minutes and you balanced furniture on your face and offered to shoot me out of a cannon to kill me should I choose to exit life on my own terms. I’m taking this as a good sign for our house hunting.
We met Brett at the first house and my enthusiasm was leaking out all over the place. The owners were home, which is weird, but I totally get it. I hated leaving my house knowing strangers were in my space looking at my stuff. It’s weird. Anyway, Brett told me to play it cool. And I tried. I really did.
Me: This kitchen is just okay. I mean, if you like marble counter tops and a badass gas stove, then it’s not bad. Also, all the cabinet space is tiresome.
Brett: You are really not convincing.
We made an offer on the first of the two we looked at. This is a much better fit for us.
First, the house is not clinging to the side of a mountain. Second, the kitchen is amazing. And most important, the backyard is almost completely paved. There is some front yard landscaping which will need to be taken care of, but other than that, almost no yard work. I am a huge fan of not doing yard work.
Brett, our real estate agent, followed us back to the microbrewery and we signed all the paperwork for the offer. Paul was gone by then, which was too bad, because I kind of wanted to see what he would do next.
So, to sum up:
- Randy’s concern for my safety is secondary to how amazing my boobs look when they are separated by a seat belt strap. I had no idea.
- We met someone who can balance furniture on his face while carrying on a conversation and who offered to kill me by cannon at the time of my choosing.
- I suck at playing it cool.
- Also, hopefully, we bought a house.
I hope this works out.
I would make a terrible homeless person.
Photo courtesy of Bru-nO