Rant of the month
I’ve been holding back from blogging this month due to being overwhelmed with house-selling trials and tribulations. To get the facts out of the way early, there was an offer, there was counteroffering, there was an agreement accepted, there was a home inspection, there was negotiation over the Purchase and Sale Agreement, there was signing of P&S. So that’s where we are now. “Pretty awesome!” you’re thinking. Well, in the sense that there is calm after the category 5 hurricane. Okay, I’m being overly dramatic. But dammit, this is my blog. In fact, one of the things holding me back from writing about recent events was that I’ve been feeling like a major league whiner throughout this whole process, and I was hesitant to inflict that on anyone else. But then I realized, hey, that’s the whole point of posting random shit on the Internet, right? So here’s the ranty stuff.
Jesus holy fuckos this has been such a nightmare. The buyers have been high maintenance lowballing foot-dragging dipshits throughout the process. Yeah, I too was a first-time buyer once, and was all of those things. But it is still not pleasant to be on the selling end of such a transaction. They’re getting a gorgeous condo in excellent condition* and they should get the fuck over their petty issues. In other words, it’s retarded to try to write into P&S that I need to put up all the window screens in the back porch. Uh, yeah? They’re in the basement, which you saw. I highly recommend you learn how to install a window screen. It takes about thirty seconds. One of the onerous responsibilities of home ownership.
(*note: Yes, they are actually entering into a world of misery when they discover the neighbor they have acquired. I recognize this evens things out a little in the long run.)
Meanwhile, the apartment search has commenced. Swami and I hoofed through six units this last weekend, some of which were pretty nice, and some of which were atrocious. Nothing as spectacular as cheetah wallpaper, but definitely some head-scratching moments. Like, why does this attic bedroom have a sink in it? Just parked against a wall, minding its own business? Very weird.
But never mind the informative details, I’m in rant mode here. As I look over potential places to live, and fight with these buyers over astonishingly small amounts of money, I am struck over and over again how this whole damn situation was shoved up my ass without warning. Two years ago, as you read on this very blog, I spent quite a bit of time and thought choosing the place we bought to live. Checked out the neighbors, sucked up to a seller who was a total douchebag, made a full-price offer. And I got a place that was great. And then I lived as if I cared about the people around me, because dammit I actually do. And also because I do expect that kindness in return. Meanwhile, Fate took a huge crap on my head and I get the following: metric assloads of batshit craziness from my new neighbor, leading to me getting a sinking feeling in my stomach every time I turn onto the street on my way home from somewhere; a huge financial hit from selling a house that’s lost about 15% of its value since we bought; prospective apartments that are farther from work, farther from various conveniences, in poorer condition, lacking some of the amenities I have now, or some combination of all of that. It sucks. Sucks. Sucks.
For a while I tried not to let it bother me, tried to be fatalistic. But I’m just overwhelmed with a bitter combination of outrage and self-pity. And my neighbor has the gall to whine to me in voice mails about how miserable she is because of what this has all been like for her. Oh, fuck that. I feel no pity for someone who isn’t even aware of the misery she causes others, even those who have tried to do right by her. And maybe in some other life she will come to learn of her responsibility for her own unhappiness. I sincerely hope so. And once I manage to pry the black claws of her fucked-up-ness from around my life, I might even be able to forgive her for what’s happened, since she’s obviously a person too damaged or stupid or senile to grasp the reality she’s made. But fuck, I am not feeling particularly charitable right now.
Well, that does it for now. It did take a little weight off me, so perhaps there is some catharsis to be had in shouting out to the faceless void. And some day this will all be a bizarre chapter in my past that I can joke about. When will that be, exactly?
(*note: Yes, they are actually entering into a world of misery when they discover the neighbor they have acquired. I recognize this evens things out a little in the long run.)
Meanwhile, the apartment search has commenced. Swami and I hoofed through six units this last weekend, some of which were pretty nice, and some of which were atrocious. Nothing as spectacular as cheetah wallpaper, but definitely some head-scratching moments. Like, why does this attic bedroom have a sink in it? Just parked against a wall, minding its own business? Very weird.
But never mind the informative details, I’m in rant mode here. As I look over potential places to live, and fight with these buyers over astonishingly small amounts of money, I am struck over and over again how this whole damn situation was shoved up my ass without warning. Two years ago, as you read on this very blog, I spent quite a bit of time and thought choosing the place we bought to live. Checked out the neighbors, sucked up to a seller who was a total douchebag, made a full-price offer. And I got a place that was great. And then I lived as if I cared about the people around me, because dammit I actually do. And also because I do expect that kindness in return. Meanwhile, Fate took a huge crap on my head and I get the following: metric assloads of batshit craziness from my new neighbor, leading to me getting a sinking feeling in my stomach every time I turn onto the street on my way home from somewhere; a huge financial hit from selling a house that’s lost about 15% of its value since we bought; prospective apartments that are farther from work, farther from various conveniences, in poorer condition, lacking some of the amenities I have now, or some combination of all of that. It sucks. Sucks. Sucks.
For a while I tried not to let it bother me, tried to be fatalistic. But I’m just overwhelmed with a bitter combination of outrage and self-pity. And my neighbor has the gall to whine to me in voice mails about how miserable she is because of what this has all been like for her. Oh, fuck that. I feel no pity for someone who isn’t even aware of the misery she causes others, even those who have tried to do right by her. And maybe in some other life she will come to learn of her responsibility for her own unhappiness. I sincerely hope so. And once I manage to pry the black claws of her fucked-up-ness from around my life, I might even be able to forgive her for what’s happened, since she’s obviously a person too damaged or stupid or senile to grasp the reality she’s made. But fuck, I am not feeling particularly charitable right now.
Well, that does it for now. It did take a little weight off me, so perhaps there is some catharsis to be had in shouting out to the faceless void. And some day this will all be a bizarre chapter in my past that I can joke about. When will that be, exactly?
1 comment:
There will come a day when you will put this all behind you. You'll remember what is happening now, but it won't make your blood pressure rise.
In 1992, my wife and I sold a place in NY for 60% of our purchase price. We had purchased 4 years earlier.
It was a brutal beating, but life will do that to you now and then.
Keep your chin up.
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