Today I called my landlord, whose name rhymes with Hal Spamfuck. He’s a very nice older gentlemen who upon learning that we were trying to buy his own lawyer son’s $40,000 overpriced house (that I fell in love with) decided to raise our rent. Mr. Spamfuck is a nice guy. Truly he is. It’s unfortunate that his real name rhymes with Mr. Hal Spamfuck. But it does.
The entire past year since Rick and I moved into the Spamfuck house we have had visions of ownership in our heads. We thought this was “our” future house. We truly bought into that notion big time. I love the Spamfuck’s house and we have always loved it. It’s nearly fucking perfect. It’s the sort of house whereby nothing’s wrong with it. There’s no oddball strange design flaw that makes you crazy. It’s perfect. Nice size well designed new kitchen, lovely hardwood floors, huge bedrooms, a huge driveway and it’s five minutes from my favorite bookstores! (please note the later is hugely important) Rick and I moved into this house from (seriously) across the street. We can see our old apartment complex out the front living room window. There was a certain comfort to change without “holy fucking shit” change that makes you feel creepy until you settle in. We were settled in on day one. Nothing much about our path’s to work changed and we were content.
And then Mr. Hal Spamfuck’s grandson called and said, “How would you like to be homeowners for the same price?” and that started the ball rolling. Grandson, who’s name rhymes with Skip did his best to shove us into his Uncles house. I loved the house and the only thing I can say about it is it reminded me of the house on the cover of “The Little House” and it made me happy inside. But alas the little house was expensive and alas I could not afford to finance it on my own, and alas..it was a “fuck it” moment with regards to having to fix Rick’s (whose name lovingly rhymes with Dick…lol) credit in order to make a home purchase in the market that was suitable for our budget like it is now. Meaning 4 years ago I could not dream of buying a house five minutes from the beach in sunny Florida. Now that half the world has defaulted, foreclosed and fucked the economy, miraculously I can afford a home.
Incidentally while trying to buy the Little House, Rick called Mr. Spamfuck to inquire about signing another years lease in the home we’re in. Mr. Spamfuck informed Rick to discuss with me how much more per month we could pay because even though we were trying to be future shitters in his son’s house, he felt compelled at that moment to raise our rent? Not so nice of Hal Spamfuck. This royally pissed me off, because I’m Italian and my name rhymes with Bitchy.
So whilst talking to Dustin (whose name also rhymes with our broker’s real name) about financing, I finally broke down and said, “I love that house, but that house would become my nemesis when it came time to paying that insane mortgage!” So Dustin hooked me up with a more suitable house being sold by someone not even remotely involved in our current home, etc. I “LIKE” this house. The house I am buying..well it is a “like”. It is not a “love”. It has no dishwasher, no hardwood floors, and no garage or storage shed. But the $40,000 more for the “little house” was not worth these things when we can install hardwood floors, buy a shed and use our time to wash our own damned dishes. (I vote for buying paper plates!) Plus the house I loved, had a gross 1960’s black and yellow tiled bathroom and a rusty crusty bathtub. (ie remodel in the very near future!)
So, I’ve been talking about “closing dates” 5 % interest rates and the like at work. It’s hard not to. Everyone keeps asking me, ‘Are you excited?’
I’m oddly not. I’m anxious to be past this precarious place of “gee I gave notice to the owners of the house I currently do my shitting in” and “what if something happens and closing is delayed or doesn’t happen and I have no place to shit?” However, the house is fully remodeled with all new appliances and flooring and a cute front door. I suppose part of it is that I am not madly in love. I will need to move in and make it “ours” to fall madly in love. I will need time to adjust to a tad bit of a smaller space, a non-existent garage and the grieving of perfect. To put things into prospective, the house we currently live in is currently valued at a full $190,000 more than the one I’m purchasing. However, it’s only minus about 130 square feet if you don’t count the missing garage. To put it bluntly we could rent a much nicer house than I alone can afford to buy. I’m also, of course, mildly concerned with home repairs. I can no longer call Mr. Spamfuck if my fence is falling down due to high wind or the water hose on the refrigerator leaks. I’m fucking on my own, Mr. Spamfuck why can’t you take care of my new house too? Also, the house we’re in is valued at an insane price because it last sold when the market was hot and the prices were high. The house is deemed the most valuable in a 5 block radius. Can you say “fucking forget ever earning any Equity!!”?
Today Skip called me to inquire as to whether Rick and I would be interested in leasing to own the “Little House” that I still love. This was an option I inquired about when the “love” was new and I could not let go. I was “brushed off” and then told my current rent was to go up to an amount Rick and I agreed was fair. Uh, who the hell says “hey honey less discuss how much more we should give to our landlord Spamfuck as a gift in kind?”
But today, for almost a full two seconds I pictured myself in that house happily puttering around on it’s beautiful hardwood floors and enjoying its cute country charm, until the realization set in that even in two years, even if we fixed Rick’s credit in that time (which could easily be done in less time) we would be taking yet another risk in hoping that the rent wasn’t increased etc. And we’d be at the further mercy of Hal Spamfuck and grandson Skip and then throw in the other lawyer dude with the same Spamfuck name. It was too much for me to engage in for too long. My bets are that the “Little House” I fell in love with is going to be the little house of horrors that never sells because damn that hut it expensive.
Today Mr. Spamfuck said, “You guys have been great tenants, I have no complaints”
I swooned in the compliment and then realized I really wanted to say “really, then why’d you try so hard to raise the rent while we tried so hard to buy your son’s house?”
I didn’t.
I hate when I don’t say what I really want to say because I forget my name rhymes with Bitchy.
Might I add that Skip sent me to Dustin so that Dustin (his so called friend) could help me buy Skips Uncles house and Dustin sold me his investor friends house. IE: Dustin screwed Skip with no lube. And today when Skip called I had not yet given notice and so his offer was 10 days prior to my closing on his friend Dustin’s friend’s house. IE: I cheated on Skip with Dustin and Skip sent me to Dustin so that Dustin could sell a house for Skip.
Get it?
No?
Who cares. 
And whilst I joke, I felt horribly guilty today talking to both Mr. Hal Spamfuck and especially Skip becasue Skip helped us move into this house, and helped us find Dustin and essentially helped us buy a house, but he got the short end of the stick because it wasn’t his Uncles “little house” and therefore he never got paid for the last two months worth of work he did. Because he planted the idea, led me to his betrayer and is still trying to help us…and I cheated on him. And in all of this mess, I really liked Skip best.
