As I was shlepping around my upstairs bathroom this afternoon contorting my body into what can only be described as Indecent Poses, my hatred of the former occupants of my home crystallized into a white hot ball of hatred. Mainly because I am at the same time shocked AND disgusted that anyone would voluntarily put a wallpaper border on a wall, JUST FOR ME TO REMOVE (they only lived here for several years).
Now, the first time we bought a place, I had so much fun at the closing that it was almost like being in a bar, aside from the distinct lack of alcohol (remember Whitney?). When we bought our new house, mere months later, our closing could not have been any less similar if I tried. The couple that we were buying our current home from were some of the coldest people I’ve met, and the closing itself left me anxious and sweaty.
(as a complete aside, I will tell you about the strangest thing that has happened to me in this neighborhood. A bit before Christmas, while my father was still in the ICU, I popped out to my garage to sneak a smoke when I heard a car pull up into my driveway. I immediately put out said cigarette and went indoors to catch whomever was walking up to my house before they could ring the doorbell and wake Alex up. Literally, the LAST person on the planet I’d have expected to see on my doorstep stood there (I’d have been no more surprised had it been Britney Spears) and when I opened the main door, WALKED INTO MY HOUSE WITHOUT BEING INVITED IN.
Sure enough, the lady with bad taste who had owned my house before me, waltzed into MY house like she still owned it.
Then she opened her mouth and demanded that I give her the “money” that “a friend had sent to her old address”–MY address of the past 2 years, mind you– like I was holding onto it or something. I rarely, if ever, get anything for this family, and surely anything looking unlike junk mail has been marked “return to sender” for “no longer lives here.” I know that these people DO live in town, but have left no forwarding address, and besides, they were so cold that I’m not about to waste my time trying to send them mail that should have gone to their new address in the first place.
She seemed quite suspicious of both The Daver and I, like we were holding out on her or something when we both told her in no uncertain terms that we did NOT have any of her mail (if I had, it would have been long since recycled). I can’t be certain, but I don’t think that she believed either of us.
I suggested that she check with the post office, something which had not occurred to her and she went on her
merry nasty way.
I guess I’m shocked that a) someone wouldn’t believe me regarding something I was completely truthful about b) her friend was stupid enough to send money via USPS and c) someone who DOES NOT LIVE HERE walked into my home like she still owned it.
This last encounter with them solidified that although I heart my house, I dislike them entirely)
To celebrate that my birthday bathroom circa July 15, 2007 is nearing completion (only the medicine cabinet to go!), I have decided to undertake the renovation of Bathroom #2, The Old 70’s One.
Now, since we don’t really want to shell out cash to have someone else do the work (which includes a new bathtub/shower AND new tile flooring), we’re doing it on a slightly smaller scale, but enough to make my eyes not bleed when I wake up to the olive green walls WITH flowery border (sexxy, I know. Don’t you wish your bathroom was HOT like mine?).
If you’ll excuse me, I’m off to punch myself in the face over and over again for coming up with another REALLY BRIGHT idea RIGHT BEFORE I’M HAVING A PARTY.
What the hell was I thinking?