24/7

The fact that I now live ten miles away from the United States' biggest and most profitable casino belies the fact that gambling makes me twitch. I hate the temporary uncertainty and the long-term losses. I hate seeing half of our state's elderly population hooked up to the slots via Wampum cards on lanyards. I hate the rank air. I do like the free drinks, but I have to imbibe vast amounts before I can convince myself that all those bourbon and cokes negate the overall soul-sucking nature of the business. Unfortunately, there's more than one way to gamble, and we've been doing it for over a year and a half in the real estate market. We've been paying two mortgages since we relocated in July. As our new home thrives around our growing family, our original place sits forlorn on its little hill overlooking the Interstate, waiting for a buyer. Today I got to thinking about the offers we didn't take. The price we didn't lower quickly enough. The renters that almo...

I wake up every morning from terrible dreams to the smell of urine. It is real and thick. I am still groggy from that slow surfacing from the subconscious depths and I think it must be the dog, who maybe isn't adjusting to the move . I tell myself I'll deal with it later. The sun is just rising; I go back down. I wake again, to the sound of The Partner's alarm clock, and the smell is gone. There never was one. I've checked. Our sheets and our floors are unoffensive and unstained. There is no sign of anything amiss, and my recollection of it is tied only to bad dreams. I leave the whiff of memory there and don't think about it again until I sit here to write. And even the act of putting words to a screen, which usually helps me understand things, does nothing. I don't know why my dreams stink.

I'm moving in two days. I went to the store to buy labels so that I could assign some semblance of organization to the used boxes we've been filling--ones that have been through so many moves that each one boasts the Sharpie-d scrawl of at least three previous tenants. I figured a fat white sticker on each box with the appropriate destination for THIS move would help clarify things a bit. With sticky paper in hand, I returned to my car only to find that it wouldn't start. The Boss was calm and collected as I tried to jumpstart the battery with a big booster thingy I carry around in the trunk but do not know how to use. Thankfully, two gentleman in a tractor-repair truck pulled in across the parking lot just as I began to get disgruntled. I flagged them down and they not only showed me how to properly affix the jumper cables, but proceeded to diagnose and (temporarily) fix the real problem when the jump start failed to work. I was on my way in about ten minutes, extremely ...

We pondered. We calculated. We formulated Plans A, B, and C. We decided to purchase another house before we've sold ours . We reached a deal with the sellers that will get us through the summer without feeling the burn of two mortgages. Come September, all bets are off. If our first home is not sold by then, we will be facing the episode of our lives brought to you by the number two--two mortgages, two house insurance policies, two sets of taxes, two dwellings to vacuum and dust. . . We're taking the gamble because we think this house is the one for us. It's got what I want: a pool, a whirlpool tub, and a spacious kitchen. It's got what The Partner wants: 4 acres, an oversized garage, plenty of parking space, and a garage-sized shed for all his gas powered lawn implements. It's got space for The Boss to grow and the dog to run amok. This is no blind jump into the uncertainty of owning two homes for an indeterminate amount of time. We looked at all the angles and dec...

The big news around here is that our buyers backed out on the day of our closing . That was Friday. Today, their agent called ours and asked her to please return their deposit . I may be damn morose after this turn of events, but I had to laugh at that one. They can get their money back when they rip it from the grip of my rigor-mortified hand. So, back to the daily grind that is selling one home to buy another. Five months and three failed offers down. . .how many to go?

The Partner and I packed most of three years into boxes and, on Sunday night, sat in front of a stripped down television set-up. We ate pizza off paper plates. On HBO, Tony and his family were moving on, too. We settled in together for the last time. There was Junior's blank stare. There was a blank screen. We sat back and sighed. Life goes on. *** It's not going anywhere fast. The buyers of our house decided one week before the scheduled closing that they didn't like some of the particulars of their loan agreement. They are changing lenders. While we are still waiting to hear the new closing date, we can assume that it will be at least one week later than the original--one week being The Partner's optimistic assessment. Me, I'm not drinking from the same half-full glass. While they push back dates, I push back the fear that the deal will fall through. The agent for the buyers assures us that her clients fully intend to buy our house, but the uncertainty is always...

We are moving through with moving, despite our discovery of a large lot adjacent to ours that is zoned industrial . The Partner spoke with a manager at the town office and discovered the wooded property procured its status long ago--so long ago that the manager does not know when, or why--but there's been no action on it. We've decided to take the gamble--laying down our chips and shoving them under the rug, hoping nobody else decides to play. Packing is in full swing and my attention is both everywhere and nowhere. I had a dream last night that I was in love with someone who preferred to be with someone else. Clinging to that dreamboy despite the betrayal evoked emotions I haven't felt in a long time. I woke up with a shocking sense of gratitude for The Partner's presence. In the day to day reality of living, I've forgotten to be thankful for the thrill of having somebody to live with--someone who loves me more than I give him, and myself, credit for. In getting r...

Do not wait until after you've put a contract on a home and had the inspection before you go to the town Web site and discover that a property seemingly adjacent to yours has been zoned INDUSTRIAL . Kudos to The Partner for even thinking to look at the zoning map, despite the late date. If it was up to me, we'd be moved in, cavorting in the swimming pool, only to notice the crevass of a waste facility or the spires of a power plant manifesting itself next door. So, we wait to get through the voice mail jungle of the town office in order to find out who owns this wooded property and what the plans are for it. As if I needed more of an excuse to procrastinate packing.

The home inspection I referenced last week is history. Luckily, the sale of our home is not. Though the buyers asked for $20k in credits (yes, 20 thousand smackers), The Partner did not waver in his belief that they were not entitled to a penny more than $5k. After several rounds of negotiations, the buyers came around. Toward the end of the process, right before consensus was reached, I was convinced that the deal would fall through. It turned into one big gamble and I was completely out of my element at the high stakes craps table. But the dice rolled in our favor. The Partner still has his pride and now we have our house. Nevermind that there were times during the stress of it all that I would've preferred my own apartment far away from him. I'm sure he felt the same way about me. At least with the new home, we have more square footage and a couple more acres in which to hide from each other next time life, and our inability to communicate about it, rears its wicked head. S...

Today a certified professional is going somewhere no man has gone before (at least not during this home selling process ): the land of the home inspection. That's right. We have a contract. We have co-signers. They have a 3 o'clock appointment with the inspector. The Boss, the dog, and I are getting ready to make like trees and leave. When we return to the finished inspection, it won't be long till we find out if we have a reason to start packing. My pessimism is starting to fade to the point that I need to fight to get it back into clearer focus. I do not embrace positivity. I abhor disappointment. So when I look around my house now and see it as something that is on the verge of becoming someone else's, I must banish the picture. I have to remind myself that it is still very much ours. And that's okay, because that's just fine. For the past three years and for now, it's home. It is a wonderful place to be. If only until June 15. Edited to add: I just dis...

Apparently, I should be more specific when I talk about my desire to sell this house. What I need to be saying is: "I'd really like to sell my home to someone who does not plan to take 200+ years of history and feed it to a wrecking ball." Yes, we have someone interested in our property. He's a developer looking to take advantage of the fact that the lot is zoned commercial in an area undergoing a booming business transformation. Down the street, a big-box shopping center is under construction. The highway, visible from our property and with an exit less than half a mile down the road, oozes potential profit. Our house is currently not used in any commercial capacity. We just live there. It was built at the tail end of the 18th century and is filled with well-preserved nods to history. Its tie to the past extends to the appellation of our section of town, which comes from the family name of the home's first inhabitants. Though the house is not registered in any na...

For anyone wondering about my lack of posting regarding our house selling adventure, let me tell you that no news. . .is no news. We have a contract in on the house we are hoping to buy, but the attached Hubbard clause expires at the end of the month. The owners have taken the home off the market for now, but will actively market it again if we don't sell ours within the next three weeks. I have no doubt the beautiful bow-roof cape with a pool will be snatched up by one of many families relocating to the area at the behest of one of the country's largest pharmaceutical employers. And we'll be back at square one. I'm just optimistic like that. I'll be sending my agent updated pictures so that our MLS listing and newspaper ads will look spring-like and new. Beyond that, I'm fresh out of freshness. Lucky for me, the term "home" offers no lack of cliches and song titles with which to title blog posts as part of this never ending saga. It'll be awhile b...

Charming Historic Cape w/Commerical Possibilities A taste of old and new. Set on 1 acre; offering 1862 sq.ft. of living wiht beautiful, wide board flooring, soapstone kitchen sink and center chimney with newly lined fireplace in the living room & great garage/workshop! Will somebody tell me what it is about this home that attracts only the rudest, slimiest and most ignorant of prospective buyers? One freak show at my door is not unexpected, but two, three, four...the parade is endless and wholly unproductive. We had one offer that fell through and another that's falling. Our agent held a showing with another gentlemen who spent over an hour on the property before he told her he hated the house, but loved the yard. Then he said he doesn't much like to mow. Where the hell do they come from? How many more of them are out there? We have an open house on Saturday, and I have a feeling I just might find out.

The sale of our home fell through already. To all of you who told me from the beginning to be positive and upbeat about the whole process, and for those who tried to convince me that negativity does not sell houses, I respond with a hearty I told you so . Looks like optimism doesn't cut checks, either. I am just glad I only wasted about two weeks thinking things were actually going well. On the buying side, we actually put an offer in on another house right before our own sale fell through. There was a Hubbard clause on the bid and we are still waiting to hear if the owners will entertain such an uncertain prospect. I have to keep reminding myself that I don't care anymore. Que sera, sera. We have a roof over our heads and solid walls surrounding. Everything else will eventually fall into place around us. But there is something I can be upbeat about. Almost a month into the game, I am still managing to keep a clean house . It's all about momentum--that's what a frien...

Now, I'm no control freak by any means. I'm pretty damn go-with-the-flowy. But the process of selling our house is driving even me crazy. Though we accepted our first offer after the house was on the market for just a week, that by no means indicates a smoothness to the proceedings. I spoke this afternoon to our real estate agent, who informed me that our buyer is having trouble finding financing. As is the case with many home seekers looking in our starter price range, he needs 100% financing. On the heels of recent news in the national media outlets about mortgage lenders going belly up because of so many people defaulting on such loans, it's become more and more difficult to procure them. This buyer has a tiger of a mortgage broker working on his behalf, but it's still extremely uncertain. Combine that with the fact that the buyer has only been at his current job for two weeks, and it becomes even less likely that a loan will come through. And so, we are in limbo. I ...

My hopes have been dashed. My heart, broken. The house I want so badly doesn't want me. We submitted a low-ball offer and, though we still haven't gotten a formal response, our Realtor gleaned from a talk with the seller's agent that he is unlikely to come down as low as we'd need him to go. It's no shock, really. Our offer was $100k below asking price. The problem is that my imagination went ahead and moved in anyway, throwing open the shutters and slapping down a dog-paw Welcome mat in the brick entryway. My imagination is a sucker. We're going to look at two more houses over the next couple of days, and there's one we've already seen that we may very well bid on. The latter is a perfectly lovely; it's solid and unique and full of amenities. It's just that it doesn't inspire any new feelings in me and it doesn't remind me of old ones. I think the problem is that I'm spoiled. By The Partner. You see, he was the first person I fell i...

I fell in love today. I am aflutter with waterfront wonder. The Partner came out at lunchtime to join my mother, myself and The Boss for a showing of a house that had looked appealing in its online listings. It was every bit as unique and remarkable in real life, I'm happy to report, albeit a bit more...spackled. And somewhat moldier. And shifty. But don't let my realistic portrayal of this home's flaws give you the wrong impression. I'm seriously in love. Attracted as I am to grandiose imperfections, this place is nirvana. I feel like I did the day I first met The Partner in real life after having made his acquaintance via a random, fateful search of AOL user profiles. For those wondering about the style of the home, I will tell you that I have coined it Caligula Contemporary . Built in the year of my birth, it's an homage to an expansive, party-loving lifestyle. There's a dock leading into a small pond where the owners of adjacent properties shine spotlights ...

The Partner and I attended our close friends' wedding this weekend. Over the course of the three-day festivities, we stayed in contact with our Realtor, counter offering, re-countering, and finally accepting the bid on our house. The final paperwork has yet to be signed. While I start to detox from the weekend, here's a picture that, while probably not worth a thousand words, will have to suffice for the purposes of this Sunday night blog post. The Partners

In a victory for positive thinkers everywhere, I have been knocked off my pedestal of pessimism . Yes, you guessed it: we got an offer on our house! And a reasonable one, at that. We're countering this afternoon with a price that meets them halfway. Of course, I'm not getting my hopes up. Falling from that pessimistic pedestal just means I'm now more firmly grounded in reality. Feet on the earth, expectations in check. But I'm not gonna lie to ya. I'm pretty damn excited.

The Partner does not like it when I spout words such as these: " Our house is going to be on the market for a very, very long time" and " All the houses we want to buy will already be sold by the time we get an offer on ours . "He calls it negativity; I call it reality. What he considers optimism is what I look at as lying to oneself. I hate lies. We knew going into this that there are a few significant factors working against our home's place in the real estate market. Its position on a busy road is one of them. Its two bed, one bath status is another. The fact that it is over 200 years old will probably scare away some people who would otherwise be attracted to the reasonable price. For all those reasons, I'm inclined to put off our search for a new home until we have an offer on this place. That way I won't get my heart set on a property that someone else will snatch up while wait for ours to sell. The Partner, on the other hand, believes in the nece...