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I’m still wary about coming back from my little blog siesta…  I guess this is a bit of a “soft opening;”  I’m just going to ease back into things, I suppose.

But, on a related note; this is my 100th post!  It seems a little weird, having written 100 mini articles for the Internet Black Hole; but I do feel that a little confetti is in order…

Who thinks i should put this on my new living room wall, btw? I don’t think it will scare the kids AT ALL. via tim baldini

Speaking on celebrating, there is a little piece of news that I want to share, even though I feel like I am risking a big old fat jinx if I do.  Ah, what the hell…

We are under contract on the house!  For those of you lucky enough never to sell (or buy) a house, that means we have a buyer.  They had a home inspector come by yesterday and are conducting a radon test in the basement at the moment.  In a few days, the test will show that we have or have not been living with a poisonous, radioactive, lung-cancer-causing gas eeking up through the basement for the last two years.  Why the hell we didn’t want to spring the extra Benjamin to know this before we moved into the house is anyone’s guess.  You’d think we would have been super concerned with such things, but no.  I can only assume that we figured luck would be on our side and that extra hundred bucks would have been better wasted on another tech gadget.  #Sigh.  Lesson learned.

So, what that means for us is we are over one of the three obstacles in the way of us and a (temporary) mortgage-free existence.

  1. Find a buyer – DONE
  2. Pass the home inspection – IN PROGRESS; hoping they won’t find the giant, man-eating chupacabras in the basement that we failed to list on our property disclosure form.
  3. Have the appraiser wave his magic wand and decide to bless us with a favorable appraisal – COMING SOON

We actually had two people place offers on the house within a few days of each other.  Our house had been on the market for two or three weeks, and we had a ton of showings.  Before the offers came in, I was close to actually pulling out my hair; I was a MESS.  We had two potential buyers come to the house at the wrong time, and the second one happened to be the folks that put the first offer on the house.  We had walked back into the house twenty minutes prior and I was in the middle of a fit.  I had put on coffee, packed up the kids and the dogs, carted them out into the cold and was pissssed when we came back ninety minutes later to a house that no one had come to see.  I was angrily pulling out all the crap to make dinner, slamming cabinet doors, dumping wasted coffee down the drain and probably frightening the children.

Then the dogs started barking maniacally; signaling a visitor at the front door.  It was the folks that were supposed to come two hours ago.  I tried to pull it together, but I was a spaz and a half, apologizing like a lunatic; frazzled and barefoot with a baby on hip out on the chilly font porch.  I told them we would pop our shoes back on and hightail it out of there and to please excuse the toys that had been pulled out.  I dumped everything back in the fridge, wrestled the kids back into their coats and promised them ice cream if they would puh-leaase cooperate.

On my way out, I noticed that the couple had a little boy, about two, and the woman was pregnant.  My heart sank a little since our backyard is wooded and sloped; something that our real estate agent warned us might scare off buyers with small kids.  They also had a set of grandparents in tow, which I thought was odd.  The last thing I would have wanted was to drag two more folks from house to house in the name of finding a home.

A few days later, they put an offer on the house.  It was an okay first offer, price wise, but they were also asking for all the appliances.  And one other thing…

Every stick of furniture in the entire house.

What?  Who would want my crappy furniture?  We don’t have super nice things; there are my reupholstered chairs, my mom’s childhood nightstand encrusted with twelve layers of lead-based paint and my mattress?  That damn thing has been peed on by two dogs, two children and one pregnant lady who was dreaming she was whitewater rafting at the time of the incident.  (Yep, the secret is out.  I no longer have any skeletons in my closet.  Just keeping it real, folks.)  What person in their right mind wants to buy someone else’s mattress?

Then it started to sink in that they were basically asking for everything I owned for free, and I was kind of insulted.  You are offering my ten grand less than I am asking for this house, and you somehow expect me to buy a new washer and dryer and ALL NEW FURNITURE?  With what money?  Nathan told the realtor we would sell them the furniture for thirty grand, no questions asked.  I’d even throw in my beloved Prada boots for that price.  We chuckled.  But deep down, we knew something was off about them.

We counter offered, politely noting that our personal items were NOT FOR SALE, (and neither was our firstborn son), and that they could have the damned washer and dryer.

Their next offer came in still asking for the furniture, but they’d give us another $1,000.  To this I replied (to myself) – You can take that offer, pound salt up your ass and visit the deer park, people.  Their realtor dropped a bombshell; they were rebuilding their credit.  Even if we hadn’t had a perfectly reasonable offer waiting in the wings, we would have told them we were done at that point.  I’m not about ready to have some fly by night bank preapproval letter hang over my head only to have their financing fall through at the last-minute while my livelihood in Colorado hangs in the balance.

We accepted the second offer, and are now in the midst of a waiting game, just hoping everything falls into place.  Which is why I am on pins and needles.

By the way, I am totally stoked to be able to take that mattress with me to Colorado, har, har.  I just had an awful realization…  Oh my god, I am dreading the moment the movers take off the mattress pad and discover a family’s worth of accidents underneath.

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