it is tons of fun to anger our children
Nora was monologuing/pretending out loud while she drew various fantasy creatures at her art table, and although I was mostly tuned out I heard her say something about the DEATH BRINGER.
Me: The DEATH BRINGER? Who’s that?
Nora: A monster. He BRINGS DEATH.
Me: Usually he brings death. But this time he brought his homemade potato salad!
Nora: NO! He brings DEATH!
Me: He brought the DVDs he borrowed last time!
Nora: He brings DEATH.
Me: He brought flowers from his garden!
Nora: Will you stop? The DEATH BRINGER brings only DEATH.
Me: I’m going to call him real quick and see if he’ll bring dessert instead. We’ve got plenty of death.
Nora: [decides to just ignore me]
LINKS
For when you feel like being controversial but don’t have a topic.
Ad for biologic lab equipment in the style of a 1990s boy band. Yes.
OMG OMG WTF OMG
You may be hearing two sounds emanating from Chicago lately. One is the gears of finance and law grinding on our behalf, and the other is me periodically screaming with stress and/or excitement. Because, by all appearances, we seem to have bought a house. Without selling the condo first! Here are my emotions: Oh shit! Yee haw! No wait, oh shit!
THE CAVEATS
We are under contract, but of course it’s not over until it’s over, so I wouldn’t call this a done deal just yet. Inspection went swimmingly, but there are appraisals and underwriting and the procurement of more insurance and a lot of other scary things.
THE HOUSE
Is so goddamned charming. It is a 1926 octagon-front brick bungalow, larger than it looks from the outside, across the street from a park, less than a mile from Nora’s school and from the train, and full of weird nooks and crannies and built-ins. There is a skylight and a window seat in the master bedroom. There is freakishly awesome 1950s Orientalist wallpaper inside the hall closet, featuring sword-wielding Mongols on horseback. There is storage and well-maintained wood floors everywhere. There is a finished basement and a brand-new water heater.
There is also a fairly ugly kitchen at the moment, but it is ugly in a way that can be fixed with time, money, and effort.
THE CONDO
To tell you the truth, I will be a bit sad to leave the ‘hood. There are no ultra-Orthodox chicken-swingers or sari shops where I’m going, and no bus crazies (commute will no longer involve the bus). But there are Korean grocery stores and Lebanese restaurants, and there will still be El crazies.
Not selling first means that we have to use some savings for closing costs and down payment etc, but it also means we don’t have to live through the hell of open houses and staging and showings. It will also mean double mortgages for a while, so there will be a bit more Smartypants frugality than normal. But everything has been forecasted and budgeted and (cross fingers) we will be fine. Our place will probably be listed for sale in February, and if you were a truly dedicated blogstalker you would buy it. Just saying.
THE FREAKOUT
1. Although technically I have done this before, that was ten years ago. It was scary then too, but not quite as momentous. The condo was a place to live, but this house feels like it could be for good. Like I might be taking that 30-year mortgage literally.
2. I keep reminding myself that everyone wants this to happen. We want it to happen, the sellers want it to happen, all the lawyers and brokers and real estate professionals want it to happen too. With all that energy, it just has to come together. Right?
3. The process has been very bad for my concentration. During the endless offer/counteroffer phase, I got downright annoyed when emails or phone calls to my office were work-related.
4. Even more terrifying than something loan- or appraisal-related going wrong? Actually moving. The books. Oh god the books.
—mimi smartypants from here to there.