This time last year, we were moving into our brand new home and ending an exhausting search for our place of our own. I still scour through Craigslist and realtor websites for prices because real estate is like gossip, only real and not scrawled on the junior high bathroom wall with taunts like, “Mona gives great head.” Get the facts straight, my pre-teen female foes. I give phenomenal head. That’s what happens when you have a no-gag reflex. It’s like a gift that keeps on giving. Giving head!
I am really grateful that we bought when we did because shortly after we moved in, the real estate market went psycho and the loan we were graced with would have been promptly yanked out of street urchin hands and we would have had to live yet another year in the shanty town apartment where the woman below hated that we sang to our son and even dared to move. Way to kill our Dance Dance Revolution dreams neighborino!
We have traded in guaranteed parking stalls for awkward parallel parking maneuvers in front of neighbors who watch as I make a seventeen-point turn. We also lost the cool Bosnian maintenance man who always bellowed, “Rahhhmonaaa! How’s going?” But we hired him as our maintenance man when one heater went out and my husband WHO HAS A MASTER’S DEGREE did not know what to do and again when yours truly who has a paltry bachelor’s degree but pwned this game (which temporarily resizes your browser window FYI) turned off the gas for the fireplace and insisted that everyone in the house wear a sweater instead. Jimmy Carter was onto something, people!
So to celebrate my one year as owner of one home and one fat mortgage, (not to be confused with a phat mortgage. This mortgage actually has a weight problem. But it’s my fault. I spoon feed it crispy chicken tenderloins smothered in honey mustard sauce and then we work it off by passing the remote control to each other during Intervention commercial breaks) please join in by leaving a question in the comments for next week’s round of Hey Mona!