What is it about house hunting that reminds me of my ex-boyfriends? Discovering quaint real estate phrases like, “charming” and “starter home,” really mean “breadbox” and “hovel,” is much like realizing your starving artist boyfriend is an uneducated oaf who is very skilled at creating skulls and crossbones with Photoshop’s airbrush tool.
I am inundated with collectors from Woulda, Coulda, and Shoulda, LLC, whose office is inside my head. Why didn’t I squirrel away every dollar I received from my baptism, First Holy Communion, confirmation and high school graduation? (Catholics make bank!) Why did I have to buy that knock-off Barbie doll with the interchangeable heads when I was eight and later at 18, why did I insist on purchasing the entire series of Planet of the Apes on DVD for Mr. LetMeJustFinishThisGame who had no job (unless you consider raising your Half-Life 2 ranking above ComradeBadger241 a serious career move)? Why Mona? Why didn’t you know to buy real estate when you were 14 and living on the other side of the Pacific Ocean? What do you mean you had to get an education first and you had absolutely no source of income? Wouldn’t you rather have a house than know the plot theories of Beowulf? You would at least know how to create skeletons on the computer.
And it doesn’t help that tonight we received a notice to move out in 10 days or comply. Comply with what, you ask? Well, that’s what I was what-the-effing. Apparently, our neighbor below is accusing us of banging our car doors into her car and dinging the side, even though the small glitch in her complaint is that she is never home when we park our car. But whining to the management is enough to get someone (almost) evicted, or at least put on record as not being very good neighbors. I learned enough about tenant law when I worked as a part-time apartment manager, so though this is just a warning and not a notice, it’s the first of many things that the folks below to make our lives hell. (Pregunta: how do we comply with something as baseless as preventing damage to a car that’s not even there? If you figure that out, you can help me in my quest to save endangered unicorns and stop the deforestation of Candy Land.)
But before we came home to the Get Out Now, Do Not Pass Go notice, Mike and I seriously considered two properties. One in West Seattle (thanks for the heads up, Alison!) and one in Burien. The West Seattle one shaves about ten minutes off of Mike’s commute and is located by a sweet elementary school, grocery store, and best of all, TARGET! But it needs work, particularly the landscaping and a lot of the exterior. Ahhh, but I think fondly of the location, something the Burien property sorely lacks. That house is small, but well maintained. It has a sliver of yard and a long strip of gravel driveway. The stacked washer and dryer is in the second bedroom. I’m not sure where we would fit the office. And though I’m sure I would have a similar spacing issue with the West Seattle home, I would have much more opportunity to expand. I couldn’t add onto the Burien home since it’s on a hill and well, the backyard is standing room only. I think I answered my own question.
It’s time to break up with this apartment. I’ve found someone else.