Our landlords are coming into town to visit with Lake Oswego friends this weekend. We have been dealing with a property management company, but the actual owners are in town this weekend. They want to come by, meet all of us, and take a look at the house.
Sigh.
Is there anything in the world that makes a house feel less like yours than having the actual owners show up to take a look at it?
I’m sure they are lovely people.
I’m sure the meeting will go fine.
Although I anticipate a certain amount of alarm about the fact that we are not as concerned with their landscaping as they might have hoped. Things grow crazy-fast here in Oregon . . . and honestly? Mark and I have trouble sometimes figuring out what is and isn’t a weed. So while everything looks neat? It does not look fussed over.
But that aside? I do not want to meet the owners of the house.
When we sold our house in Vallejo? Sold it for so much less than we owed on it? Made a crazy devil-deal with the bank whereby they would accept less than we owed on our mortgage if they were then given permission to make big ugly black marks all over our credit report?
When we did all of that?
We knew we were going to have to rent for a while.
What I didn’t anticipate? Was how very different that would feel. That renting.
That borrowing of a house.
A house that’s not mine.
Sigh.
And so even though the landlords have made clear that this is just a friendly visit and not an inspection?
It feels like an inspection.
Sigh.
And inspections? Are designed to reveal flaws.
So I am feeling all vulnerable. That is not my favorite way to feel.
Hmmmph.
In other news . . .
I was watching The Real Housewives of New Jersey last night. Because there is just little in the world that makes me feel better about myself than mocking and judging those ladies. I am all dysfunctional that way.
One of the women was all excited about her upcoming 10th anniversary, and she was hoping for a big gift from her husband. Her husband, in another scene, expressed concern that he wouldn’t be able to live up to his wife’s expectations because money was tighter than it has been in the past. So sad.
So I was expecting a lovely scene in which he bought her flowers and dinner, and she threw a huge fucking fit of greedy rage.
Happy sighs of anticipation.
But here’s what happened instead . . . He took her on a private helicopter ride over New York City. They checked into a luxurious hotel. They had a private dinner served in their room. And then? Stuffed into a chocolate dessert? An enormous fucking diamond ring.
Enormous. Also? Covered in chocolate frosting . . . that part was maybe not thought all the way through.
Sigh. I want to do belt-tightening the way these people do belt-tightening.
They cut away from that couple then, because they were having sex for the entire remainder of the episode.
It was a big ring.
I look over at Mark with raised eyebrows.
He looks back, “What? You’re not a jewelry person. Plus? You would never go in a helicopter.”
That’s true.
He holds out his bowl of popcorn, “Want some?”
Sigh.
I do like popcorn.
This morning, I tried to get the girls organized to help me clean up a little bit in preparation for the inspection (I mean visit) from our landlords. I explained that we needed to make things look a little neater than usual so that the landlords would be confident that we are doing a good job of taking care of their house.
They stood there and stared at me sadly for a moment.
And then Kallan screamed out, “SCATTER, MAJ! RUN AND SCATTER! SCATTER! SCATTER! SCATTER!”
And they were both gone, running for the hills and away from responsibilities.
And I was left giggling.
Scatter . . . are you fucking kidding me?
Stood there in the kitchen that is not mine for a moment. The kitchen I am borrowing.
What do we have here? Leftover popcorn?
I do like popcorn.
It’s a tiny stale. Still tasty, though.
I eat a couple of handfuls. Look around.
From where I stand?
I can see a huge cobweb dancing in the corner. And a small mountain of Labrador poo in the middle of the back yard. And a pile of dirty towels and bathing suits draped on the kitchen counter.
Sigh.
Bring on the inspection.
But how awesome would it be if, when they rang the doorbell? We opened the door and then all ran past them screaming and hiding?
SCATTER! SCATTER! SCATTER!
That would be awesome.
Note to landlords: We are looking forward to your visit! What a pleasure it will be to give you a chance to appreciate how happy we are in your house. Plus also? Mark and I turn out to be way lame at identifying weeds.
Sigh.
Hey come on…big deal you’re renting! You’ll be back to home ownership soon! Forget these TV programs. It’s just not real life. First of all, they’re probably borrowing money to buy those rings, boats, popcorn (oh wait, that was yours), and whatever else.
I’ve started following Dave Ramsey over the last couple months and it’s very empowering! Now forget all this talk about renting, and popcorn, and sex (who said sex?)…Who gets 31 comments from a daily post? One of your posts had like 163 comments!! Who are these people commenting?? How much do you pay them? You’re not even a real person! You’re just a stick figure! And not even any ol’ stick figure you’re a stick figure losing their balance! Oy! Wait, what were we talking about? Oh right, rent and money and stuff…Well good luck with the lords today!
Hmmmm . . . you are new here, Mr. Twitter acquaintance.
I do not mind renting. I am well-acquainted with real life. I am also well-acquainted with the art of bitching and then going about my business.
Today? Bitching.
Tomorrow? On with real life.
The day after that? Perhaps some hints of porn.
That’s why I am now Queen.
Queen of the Bloggers!
And my commenters? They make about as much per comment as I make per post.
Which would be zero dollars and zero cents.
Oh, and also?
I answer all of my comments.
So half of the money being raked in by my commenters?
Is mine.
Snort!
Also?
These words . . . Big Deal.
Annoy me.
The Queen? She is annoyed.
See how I get so many comments?
Hee hee!
OMG SCATTER!
the first night i hung out with my hubs
when we first started dating
i fell asleep at his house
NOTHING HAPPENED!
but he had to drive me home
where i lived with my mother and step-father
i had in fact just moved in
at 33
sigh
anyhoo
he brings me back in his molester van the next morning
and as he approaches the house and starts slowing down i spy my step dad in the driveway and shout out all military with hand signals “GO GO GO GO!”
and he steps on the gas and i just start laughing maniacally and not only does my step dad see it
so do SEVERAL OTHER neighbors
sigh
we just went around the corner then he dropped me off
but seriously, we had just hung out for ONE NIGHT
and he married me
(smart guy!)
we have a good time
Seriously.
You tell the best stories.
The best stories.
i save my best ones for you!
Do your comments get moderated? If not, I left probably the best comment I’ve ever left in my life on your site. If they do get moderated and you do approve them then please approve mine and don’t consider it the best comment but maybe rather just a decent one instead. Thank you.
Damn, I missed my last comment that was posted! Arghh…Okay, I’m not spamming your site..Just delete me here..Right here…this comment. Not the other one which was really good and funny and witty. Wait, this is the Queen right? Please do show me mercy! :)
First-time commenters go to moderation.
In case they are troublemakers.
I am growing suspicious, Sir.
AWKWARD!
I know!
He is making me all happy.
ohmahgah
boomboom does that ALLTHETIME
when he thinks he is being funny
but like, the other person doesn’t get his humor
so then he has to explain it
like the time he got an eye exam at walmart
and ragged on the opto lady
(who was pregnant)
and asked her if her college friends
make fun of her
cause they have a practice
and she works at walmart
i LOVE awkward
i better
it’s kinda my thing
OK, guess what?
I love your blog.
But I love your comments here?
More.
well that’s just cuz
my dad doesn’t read YOUR blog
i mean he knows i’m inappropriate
just not the level of impropriety…
SAFETY!
oops. i farted!
i’m sorry
i don’t know what is wrong with me!
:)
Seriously. You may start up that anonymous blog of inappropriateness?
Right here on my blog.
You need to let loose!
But no more farting.
I am all tears and giggling.
You’ll be fine! *hugs*
ACK!
No hugs!
ACK!
Suspicious?? Awkward?? Hey, I’m somebody’s daddy!! Olivia and Jake’s to be exact! Okay, yes I’m awkward true but not suspicious! Just a nice guy trying to make conversation. Sheesh! Well I’m going to have to come back when all the dust has settled…
The dust will settle?
After you stop plumping pillows and trying to straighten shit up.
Snort.
Also?
I adore you, awkward one.
Also?
This is comment #57!
YAY!
Well I adore you and I love your site and I love all #58 (now) comments too! You’re pretty cool! :=D Queen!
Thank you, Sir.
SCATTER!
I laughed so hard I forgot about the sinus headache I’ve had for two days. I could kiss you. You know, if I actually knew you. And there wasn’t 3000 miles of continent between us. And if your landlords weren’t coming to inspect… er… visit you.
Sorry about the headache, but soooo happy to have made you laugh today!
Feel better.
Hmmm, I think there are too many junk words here..mmm…yes…
Wink Wink
;)
Snort.
You said junk.
Snort!
Hopefully you realize I was kidding…right??!!?? Wait, I still think you are the queen! :)
Silly one.
What comment am I???? It is rather unfair that you tell other people! :)
Also, I have the giggles that someone thinks this is not an accurate mom blog!
Cause, for the record, I find it honest and truly refreshing!
This last comment of yours? #70.
And thank you!
I have got to start watching that show! I could also do with a little of that belt-tightening. Even though I just read in People magazine that they must sell all of their shit? I am still jealous of them. Because they have STUFF TO SELL. I have no stuff, and no way out of my broke-ness. Sigh.
Landlords are such a pain in the ass. I’m sure yours are great, though.
You MUST watch this show.
It is awesome.
Eat
my heart out? I don’t think so.
Although . . .
your
conniving comment ways have caused my palms to sweat and my . . .
heart
to beat a little faster.
All . . .
out
of admiration, and perhaps?
A little fear.
So what do you think . . . .