For a good year, I played Monopoly with my two best friends on a regular basis. Because of these sessions, we coined the catchphrases “Hoooouses!” and “Viiiiiiisa!” – both to be said in high voices with shifty eyes to imply how irresponsible whatever the most recent decision made in the game actually was.
Luckily, it was a board game. The worst that would happen would be that Nick would feel bad for me (always losing due to lack of strategy and foresight), quit the game, give me all his deeds and money and watch me kick Katie’s (heiress to a construction mogul – I love saying this) ass.
On Friday, the Newf’s work-wife became the official owner of a beautiful, perfect-for-her home. I couldn’t be happier or more jealous that it all came together for her without major stress or heart murmurs (what I fully expect will happen when the time comes for me).
We went out that day to get the full tour before her vision becomes a reality. For the next few days, a painter will tackle the entire inside and a contractor is coming in with granite counter-tops, vessel sinks, and other homeowner pornography. Her house is going to be phenomenal. I’ll post pics eventually if she’s cool with that.
We were out again this morning to help lift some boxes around (we owe her BIG time after helping us lug all of our junk up three flights of stairs in the heat of summer). By the time we left, our half-assed interest in home-ownership had reached feverish levels of excitement and we hit the real-estate listings pretty hard, coming up with a few targets for drive-bys. The Sunday afternoon kind…not the drug-money-revenge kind.
Two were absolute garbage in neighbourhoods that would see us mugged and dead in a ditch before the deal is even closed (mild exaggeration). The last was in our ideal area on a quiet dead-end street. The place is 63 years old but was completely gutted and flipped, surely about to earn someone a lot of money, definitely about to make for a frantic week for two potential homebuyers.
Keep your fingers crossed – not so that we get the house, but so that we don’t make any silly or risky decisions…No more on this until something definite comes along.
“Hoooouses!”
Christ…
{ 7 comments… read them below or add one }
Wow. That sounds like a full evening. I think we need to go on a dream date.
Maxie: The newf would be all about it, I’m sure.
Rachel: Tell him he’s a prude…no, wait, a FASCIST. That’ll get a rise out of him, no doubt.
VillageIdiot: Her kid is crazy cool. I’ll give her the benefit of the doubt for the first hour and a half.
Alice: Innocent casualties are a must for my dates.
Andy: Rachel and I would make dream parents. Guaranteed!
2 hours to realize kids are tiresome? What about 5 minutes?
Hahaha
Recipe for one traumatized preschool teacher
only took you two hours to realize the kids thing. smart man.
Oh Dan was digging the post until the whipped cream…then his eyebrow did this Elvis thing and he started muttering “oh really?”
I couldn’t stop giggling
Love it!
so I don’t know how the newf and her husband are going to feel about the wrestling, but if they do it you should def sell tickets and use that money to buy more drinks.