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The first was the worst.

November 12, 2010

Drove up to Cornelius Pass and saw some houses today.

You can get half an acre for $125K. Nice big trees, mountain views, quiet nights. Wood-burning stove and a two-car garage.

Okay. The place was a dump; a low-budget home remodel gone wrong. You’d have to gut the thing and start over.

The place must have bad karma, too, because the first thing that happened was K slipped on the steps and bruised her back. I’m so sorry. Then we went to the next place and got her car stuck. What did I get you into?

This was quite an experience. We had an appointment for between 10 and 11. It was 10:13. Knock knock? Who’s there? The realtor. Okay, hold on while I get dressed. I’m glad you’re here, K said to me.

A frumpy looking man came out. We went in. Forty-five seconds later we went out. Thank you. No problem. Mind if we look around the property? Go right ahead.

It was a very nice 2.5 acres. Creek running into an active stream, sloped terrain and a flat meadow, lots of trees. Sort of west facing with some southern exposure. Off a smaller road, so quiet, but only 35 minutes from downtown. Two mossy outbuildings which could’ve hidden anything. I didn’t have the guts to peek.

In a perfect world I’d burn the house down and start over. But for the sake of buying it, I would have to convince a bank it was worth saving and repairing. Then I could get a renovation loan, but they wouldn’t let me do the work so I’d end up paying $30K for someone else’s remodel of a house I didn’t even want. K’s working on it.

Anyway, then we got stuck. The gentleman came out and helped us push. K found some plywood pieces and wedged them under a tire. I hit the gas. We got free. He hit the deck.

Then, in a tender moment, my bruised-back realtor friend held out her hand to shake the oddball hoarder’s muddy hand in a gesture of goodwill and fellowship. I didn’t really do anything, he said. Sure you did. You fell in the mud for me. Even if I don’t buy your moldy home, thank you.


From → Journal

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