Did you miss me?? Yeah, I didn’t think so. *wink*
My goodness, I’m just so flabbergasted right now. The home inspection was yesterday, and apparently we have no egregious issues with the house. The inspector could have been on time yesterday; that would have been nice. We didn’t have to be here, but we wanted to be so we knew immediately what needed to be fixed. So when the inspection was scheduled for 5pm, we asked to move it earlier in the day, as we would have to leave the house by 6pm to get to the airport. Our realtor called us back to tell us the inspection would be at 4pm, which suited us just fine.
Only the inspector didn’t show till 5pm. *sigh*
I got to meet one half of the couple that’s buying the house. It’s a young couple, with no children, who hope to get a dog. We have the perfect starter house for someone who wants a dog, although I would suggest a small-ish dog since the home itself is tiny.
The mother and stepfather of the young man accompanied him to the house yesterday for the inspection. She kept gushing on and on about how excited she was to be part of her son’s first home-buying experience, how cool it was that when the young couple came to look at the house, both sets of parents could also see the house and weigh in with their opinions.
This is something that Kurt and I don’t really understand. Since we got married, our respective parents figured we were grown adults (except for the curfew thing at my house, but that’s a whole ‘nother rant for another day), and they’ve left us alone. Sure, they give advice that we’re welcome to take or leave, but they don’t interfere. Had they been in the same state when we bought this house, they would have let us make the decision completely on our own. It’s going to be our mortgage, after all!
The couple buying the house isn’t all that young — I know the husband is 24 to my 28 (and I was just barely 24 when we bought this house), so he’s not a baby. Maybe if they were 18 and buying their first home, I could understand the complete involvement of the parents more.
But yeah, the inspection went well, at least until I got home from the airport. The inspector had turned on all the appliances and heaters and lights and the tub and everything to make sure it was all in good working order. He insisted he’d turned everything off, and I know I should have gone back to check, but we were in a massive hurry to get to the airport. It was already 7pm by the time we left, and we had to be at the airport by 9. We hadn’t even had dinner yet! When I got home, I went to put Grace to bed, and her baseboard heater had been turned all the way up and left on.
He could have started a fire! We had put things in front of the heater since we don’t use them in the summertime, and they could have ignited or melted.
It was about a bajillion degrees in poor Grace’s room when I put her to bed. Fortunately we have a window fan in her room, and I was able to suck cold air in so she could sleep.
So that’s taken care of. The next thing we have to get done is have the septic pumped. That’s a gross thing to have to do, especially since the cover to the septic tank is right in front of my front porch. Last time it was pumped, when we bought the house, it was noticed that a valve of some kind had broken off right where it attaches to the house. So the septic technician had to drop down into the tank itself to repair the valve.
Did I just hear a collective “ewwwwwwwwwwwww”???
Yeah, that’s gross.
So I keep thinking I should be doing something. But in reality, there is nothing I can do, except throw out all my jams and jellies and condiments, and concentrate on eating the food in the fridge. The movers will pack everything else.
It’s an odd feeling, not to have to be completely on top of the housework in case someone comes to look at the house. I feel so…….. bereft. (I said “bereft” and you didn’t! Neener!)
And on that note, I shall leave you with photographic proof that Armageddon is indeed on its way. My three animals never occupy the same space. But behold: