in two hours, delayna and andrea will be here with miriam, aaron, and maya for a lunchtime playdate celebrating the birth of violet. i am coasting on the cleanliness achieved last night for reggie. i've noticed my head thinks, "i can vacuum after people arrive and that will give the impression that i'm a cleaner."
we only got to see two houses last night. reggie said the buxhill house, which i don't remember, was already under contract. i also swear up to god that he said the flagpole house was also under contract (house 1 of 2 on lanshire). so we went to the mockingbird house. they had those cute 50s windows where you flip up a lever and push out the window and you can't put screens on them so out go the cats and in come the mosquitos. however, the residents had chosen to put some kind of storm window over every last one of them, so you could never air out the house ever. the living/dining room was a decent size. the kitchen was tiny and combined with the washer and dryer. it gave me the creeps in person. the bedrooms were large enough and the vintage tile was cute. the backyard was a postage stamp, so brian started pacing in it and talking about clearing out part of the decking, as if. he also fancied removing the garage and efficiency unit before his head came back around. we tottered up to the efficiency and i began questioning whether or not they had attained the proper PERMITS when building that thing up there and i gripped violet's hand tighter.
we entered this, space. there were a couple of long, vintage chemistry desks/tables/consoles. like, you could see where you'd attach your bunson burner to the gas line and there were spigots. it was very dusty and fairly empty. just a bunch of weirdness going on in there. i think i recall a vent hood. i suppose it was a vintage meth lab.
then we drove to the lanshire house that's not behind flagpole hill. the one suspected of a small yard taken over by a garage and driveway. reggie didn't show up. he was on flagpole hill. wires had crossed. we hotfooted it to flagpole hill. and then remembered how this one is out of our price range. it didn't stop us from talking paint colors and furniture arrangement. it only had one living space. reggie discovered that the half of the ancient garage that had been converted to a large laundry room did not take up the full length of that half of the garage. there was a mystery space back in there! both sides of the garage were padlocked on the outside!
i discussed knocking down the living room wall and putting in new kitchen cabinets and then moved on to the rest of the house. decent-sized bedrooms. a linen closet. okay closet space. small, but clean bathrooms.
the deck had the hot tub there and a built in bench. it dropped off to a large, sloping yard and i immediately felt like a bill goat. i like living on flat land, i'll be honest. we were pleased that the houses next to us were well-hidden by trees from the back, at least during the summer. the mcmansion is actually a complete gutting of another 50s house where the only thing they did was save the bricks. perplexing. why the attachment to the bricks when there's no attachment to a single solitary thing that was inside the bricks?
the view across the street was gorgeous and expansive. impressive clouds were filling in. there were people running all over the place, but you couldn't see them until you crested the hill between the house and the playground.
some people showed up as we were standing out in the driveway. that was weird. it will sell before it ever comes down in price. i'm torn over that.
i felt tremendous anxiety last night. like, i was going to fall off a cliff. i don't like moving in the first place, in general. i don't like leaving my nest and i sure as hell don't like the feeling that you don't have a home for a couple of weeks. i'm worried i'll talk myself into something that's not the right fit because there is not much out here for $200,000 that's not in a shitty school district. and i'll think i'm just not liking a place out of fear. but i know i could walk into one of those clean mid-century houses and be ready to unpack my bags. ain't going to happen.