Yesterday, I went with Ned to look at houses for him to rent. As you know, if you’ve kept your Big Book of June Events wide open–like your limbs, Trampy–you’ll recall that Ned’s landlord–gaylord–is moving to D.C. and for some reason feels the need to sell the house Ned rents, the house we used to live in together.
There was a short sentence. Anyway, the gaylord offered to sell it to Ned, for about 11 million dollars over what he should have probably asked for it.
One thing I suggested to Ned, because he wants to discuss it ad nauseum and not because I wish to give unsolicited advice, is that he say to the gaylord, “Look. I’m almost 52 years old. I’m the president of a company. I have zero desire to move and I’m not really prepared to buy a house out of the blue like this. You can keep renting it to me. I’ll sign a two-year lease. I’ll arrange for people to come fix things. In short, I’ll manage it myself.”
That’s what I suggested. He’s been there three years and caused zero trouble. He’s like Lily.
Really, out of all the pets, Lily is totally a set it and forget it cat. Unless she decides to disappear again.
But enough about my pets. Hah!
Anyway, in the meantime, as Ned tries to assess the fair market value of the house, and scrapes his dollars together and asks me things like, “What are closing costs?” and I tell him that’s when they charge you for every time you shut a door, like I’m Calvin’s dad or something, other than all that happening, I said, “Hey, maybe you could rent another house instead, Ned.”
There was a short sentence. Also, I just took my first sip of coffee and spilled all down the front of my cowboy robe. Hot. Literally.
“Oh, I’ve been looking online,” said Ned, and as he said that I whipped out my large, hard phone and looked at Craigslist. The very first thing I saw was an adorable house.
“Have you seen this?” I asked.
He hadn’t. He hadn’t LOOKED on Craigslist, only on ‘Hey, world, here’s all the new-construction houses you could ever dream of. Enjoy seeing a garage as the main feature!’ rental websites. You know the ones I mean.
New construction makes me sad. WHY would anyone want the garage out front? WHY would anyone want zero trees? WHY would you not want character? “Well, we’ve got a kitchen island.” Heyyy-oooo! Wooo! Yeah, that’s as good as a window seat.
So, we arranged to see the rental house on Sunday. It was ONE BLOCK from Ned’s current dwelling. Turns out, this really nice couple has a bunch of rentals in the city, and three of them were going to be available July 1. July onest. So we arranged to see all three.
Look at my link, above, if you want to creepy-crawl that house. And then there are the others.
This one, above, has 21 windows! And a built-in bookcase around the fireplace. And the girl who lived there worked for my friend Kit, so oh my god, she had cool decorations in there AND a doggie who never even barked once, who was clearly a Corgi/Pit. Someone once pointed out to me that any dog mixed with Corgi just looks like a short Corgi version of whatever breed it’s mixed with. This dog had a big pitty head and Corgi legs and was totally down with us being in his house.
“Hey, June, why didn’t you take a picture of a dog in front of Ned’s new landlady? Then try to tell her why? Why didn’t you, June? Hunh? Hunh? Why?”
The other one is right near that bar Ned and I used to go to when we lived in that neighborhood, a bar I’ve used as the site of many trysts, and by “trysts” I mean online dates that never work out. It’s dark, it has wood benches, you can bring your dog there, and also it has outdoor seating. It’s everything you want in a bar.
That house isn’t even listed yet, and it’s the best one. It has a marvelous front porch, the neighboring houses are adorable, it has built-ins and a fireplace and a formal dining room with french doors. Oh it’s the bomb.
“Get this one! Get this one or I’ll abandon my house and move in myself!” I whisper-screamed to Ned. So he took an application, and I want you to sit down, but he did not go home and fill it out right away. He wanted to
I want you to calm down, though, because I nagged and cajoled and carried on and he filled that thing out last night. I told him to photograph the app and text it to the landlords, but I can’t guarantee he did that.
When I find a place I like, I get such a sense of urgency, and competitiveness. I feel I must act now. Because I’m not at all impulsive. No. When we looked at our house, fmr., Ned and me, there were approximately eleventeen thousand other assholes traipsing through at the same time. There was this one young chick with peacock earrings who was CLEARLY trying to flirt with the gaylord in order to get the place. I wasn’t positive yet, but I had an inkling she might be flirting up the wrong maypole, there, and she was.
To get that place, I offered our gaylord $50 more a month. Right here. Wheeler dealer, man. You’re looking at one.
Further reports as developments warrant.
In the meantime, I had the rest of my weekend, and since I’ve already droned on for 959 words, I’ll just show you pictures from Alex’s Hey, I’m an American Now! party.
All I need for a party to be a success: Dogs or cats (or parrots, really) who are into me. The white dog (an English setter) came RIGHT UP to me the second I got there. She has a big open yard with an electric fence. Neither dog cared when kids leaped over them. Edsel would have had to take a Xanax if that happened. He’d still be on his fainting couch with his paw across his forehead.
Old coworker! “Alex!” Do y’all remember her? (Big Book of June Events.)
Alex the American (new blog name) (if this were a blog) had games, as well. We had a sheet with all the states, and had to list all the state capitals, and guess what I’m worse at than I thought. Eventually I was just, you know, putting down names of cities I knew in each state. Then I’d have odd flashes of knowledge, like knowing it was Montpelier, Vermont.
But for Alabama, I put Sweet Home.
Montgomery? Is it Montgomery, Alabama? Now all I can hear is Forrest Gump saying, Greenbow, AlaBAMA.
Last weekend, when Ned had his cookout, (they don’t say “barbecue” as a way to say “cookout” here. Barbecue is quite sacred) his nephew broke a glass. On the way out, Ned’s sister-in-law said, “Sorry we broke a glass” and I said, “Sorry I ruined your Black Panther party” and Ned’s sister-in-law said, “I was just about to SAY that!”
It must suck to have kids and have to take responsibility for their actions. I’d be all, Never met the kid. Who?
Ohmygod, I love you so bad, English setter. Maybe they should have banned him from the party. Only allowed American dogs there.
Oh, right. The other game was we got a map of the U.S. and had to write in all the states. I’m sorry, but you all-squished-in East Coast states can all go fuck yo’selves. Just be one big state already.
I gotta go. It’s late, and I’ve rambled on for ages.
That’s all I have to say about that.