Thursday, October 8, 2009

Here Kitty Kitty

Something has been plaguing me lately. No it isn’t the Swine Flu. You all know this is a foreclosure and with that the house has some ‘special needs’ not only that but you are buying the house AS IS. Two words that will haunt you until the day the inspection is done. Luckily the place is what the real-estate calls clean swept so there isn’t any garbage or nasties in it. But… but… there is something that is far worse. CAT SMELL !!!!!!!!!! UHG… Yes we knew this before we bought it and I still stand by the fact that I am not going to let an issue like cat get in my way but the more I think about it the more grossed out it makes me.

The previous owner clearly didn’t understand the concept of a litter box. Or the concept of having 80 cats is a social deterrent. I picture this old spinster in a rocking chair surrounded by all 80 cats and all of the cats have different names and she remembers them all. The notion is a tad gross. Of course this isn’t the case and I am sure it was only one or two deviant cats! And I don’t mean deviant like Garfield.

John continues to assure me that this issue will be taken care of since we are ripping several of the walls down and ripping out the carpet. We are also sanding and sealing the floors and applying a special paint that eliminates odors. Now I tend to over exaggerate, the smell isn’t going to knock you on the ground the second you walk in the door but it is not ideal for a home. SOOO I have decided to keep all porous items in storage until the issue is rectified. The down twist to this idea is we are closing around Nov. 20th and there is a good chance it will be VERY cold and there might be snow. All the caustic cleaning products and seals will require us to have the windows open and we will have to have the heat running to protect the new plumbing from freezing. Again welcome to the Adirondacks.

Stick around so you can watch my wallet hemorrhage!

Oh and I will take any cleaning suggestion you might have to pet odor….


Wednesday, October 7, 2009

Momma I'm Movin' Out

Last week John and I handed in our thirty day notice so on Oct. 30th we will vacate the residence that I have called home for two years.…. You might say to yourself, “well you aren’t closing until Nov. 20th.” And to that I say you are right. We will become the wandering nomads for approximately a month. Living out of our cars and braving the fierce Adirondack frosts. Okay maybe not nomads, but back to living with our parents. A flash back of memories flicker before me. Such memories are too far past to ever become reality again. These memories are of an easier time when my largest concern was what to wear.

So two days ago we picked out our storage until, a modest 5’X10’ unit not located to far from the new house. It sits empty as I have to admit I am struggling at the thought of packing. Packing is my arch nemesis and the enemy to all those who are unorganized. I stand by as the bulging heaps of my vast collections point and laugh in my face. Maybe I put off moving just because I knew this day would come, the day when I have to face the clutter demons. Some might think of me as a hoarder. I don’t know if I could argue otherwise. My precious things; it almost pains me to think of them stuffed in a cold, metal, lifeless box for 30 days. Arg, the necessary evil.

The 30 day notice was very sobering for me and left a massive pit in my stomach. One can’t help think…what if…What if everything falls through, what if I made a mistake, and what if I just gave up the best location ever to be doomed to live with my parents all winter long!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! Winters at my parent’s house might not have been as savage as the Donner Party’s finals days but the brawls what could ensue from cabin fever sure was a testament to primal human nature. Welcome to the Adirondacks.

That’s all for now…

Tuesday, October 6, 2009

I guess I am tougher than a pioneer

SOOOO I received the loan packet in the mail on Friday. By packet I mean the entire Adirondack Park worth of milled trees. The package probably weighed close to a metric ton. You can imagine my dismay when I then realized that all the pages were thoughtfully printed in 8 font size and I had to read every last word of it. Needless to say I am not done with it yet and to be honest it drones on so that it takes me twice as long to read it because I get side tracked.
Now I have reached the dreaming stage.

I finally have been released from the nightmare stage and depression spins of wondering if it would actually be ours. I came to this point when the massive paper pack arrived….if they weren’t serious the bank would have never spent so much money on shipping and printing. Not that they are paying for it, I imagine that is also lumped in with administrative costs that seems to be holding my wallet at gun point. Never the less, I have started to have dreams instead of nightmares. Not that my dreams are all the comforting but the edge is gone.

Not that I know how to make the transition but I am going to venture to equate my experience thus far to pioneering. And in the hundreds of years separating now and then it hasn’t seemed to get any easier, in fact, maybe harder today. So the pioneers set out on a journey, a long one where the only time they had to mind was the cool weather setting in and ideal cropping season. I am on a journey, a long one where time is always up my ass. I have deadline after deadline and cold weather (hahahaha) I work right through it. Some pioneers had to ask for loans, they would venture into town adorning their finest in social garments and ask very nicely to take out a loan from the sole bank in town. When granted they would have to sign a paper and honorably shake hands. After all, your word was your bond. Today not only do you have to sign your name you have to take a lie detector test, you have to change your religion, you have to jump through the burning ring of fire, and after all that is done you have to show the bank good faith by bringing them the holy grail. The pioneers had one priority and that was maintaining their land which would provide for their family. Horseshit, I have to work 9am-5pm everyday then come home and slave to maintain a decent living space for my family and pray I see a pillow for my weary head before 1 in the morning. The pioneer would come home after a long day of working on the field to be greeted by his homemaker of a wife, two lovely well behaved children, and a primitive but still piping hot meal on the table. Since today you can’t afford a house by yourself you and your husband have to be the work hands so when you get home you are greeted by an empty space and certainly no children because you can’t afford them. Oh and that primitive meal, well let me tell you I jealous; compared to some of the last minute fast food slop I am forced to eat due to lack of time potato stew sounds divine. Shhheshhh

Alright I see I am flippin’ out again.