Ike and I have found the perfect house. It's in the perfect neighborhood. With the perfect backyard. A perfect basketball goal. A perfect kitchen. It's even already painted perfectly. And a perfect distance from two of our best friends (only two or three houses away).
The problem is, the homeowner expects too much money for it. She's asking for much more than a house of its size in this neighborhood should cost. She's not budging on the price because she's backwards in the house herself.
We keep telling ourselves not to be suckers. Surely there are other perfect houses...except there aren't. We've looked. And there's nothing. I'm dreaming about this house, I've decorated Jake's room there, I'm already having breakfast on the back deck while Jake plays, and I know exactly where the Christmas tree will go. This is the house. Anything else will be second-best.
So I'm writing this entry in the hopes that my pure unadulterated house dream will bring the interest rates crashing even lower. Please oh please let us buy this house. These are my reasons for it.
1. I'll be a better mother. I'm so damn unhappy in this town. I know, I know, bloom where you're planted and all that bullshit. BUT when a flower has no roots, it's very hard to bloom. Forget the garden symbolism--I can't keep flowers alive anyway. The point is, I don't "bloom" here. I bitch here. I have no place to take Jake to broaden his horizons. How many times, when he's asked me, "Mommy, what's that?" have I had to respond, "That's a redneck with too much bass in his car..."?? I know there are rednecks everywhere. But I think we live with a significant number of them here. I'll be a more intellectually challenged mother, therefore a more intellectually stimulating mother if we move.
2. I'll be a better wife. Well, no, I'm a great wife anyway. Moving on...
3. Less teenage redneck assholes knocking on my door in the middle of the afternoon. No, this isn't an everyday occurence here. Just today actually, but it was bad timing. This asshole kid, followed by his asshole friends (including his pitiful teenage girlfriend pushing her baby in a stroller), going door-to-door trying to peddle cheesecakes. Yelling the whole time to his girlfriend that she should "fucking fucking this" and "fucking fucking that." And THEN he comes to MY door. With his nasty mangy dog right beside him. I answer the door (wishing I'd actually made those Church of Satan tracts I keep wanting to hand out around here) with my eat-shit-and-die look and he says, "Y'all wanna buy some desserts or something?" Wow, what a salesman. I close the door on him while thinking evil thoughts (did I mention I'd be nicer if we moved??) and he cusses at me all the way back to the sidewalk. Ah, if only I had the car today...one less redneck.
4. Less domestic violence in broad daylight across the street. Hey, I know it happens across socio-economic lines. But let me tell you: it happens more in the apartment parking lot that our front porch faces than anywhere else. I can think of three times in the past couple of months that Ike has yelled across the street or that I've called the cops. Once Ike saw a man beating his wife in front of their son. Another time I saw a woman trying to drive away while her man was running on the street alongside the car, trying to pull her through the window with her hair. This is not where I want Jake to grow up.
5. Did I mention I know where the Christmas tree will go? I'm mentally living in this house already. Now we just have to buy it...