Whoop whoop!

Forgot to mention this piece of info…we were officially approved for the mortgage. Aaaaaaand there’s a new grant the lovely mitten state just introduced for first time home-owners. They will grant you up to $3000 to put towards closing costs. In our example, the down payment and closing cost total are estimated to be around $9000. Which is ridiculous. That’s 10% of the house’s value. The sellers are contributing $5000 towards closing costs. We have our 3.5% down payment of $3150. So the grant would cover the remaining $1000. And that is excellent. That’s a new hot water tank and a couple pieces of furniture. Or we can put it towards the sewer pipe liner. The sexy, sexy sewer pipe liner.

Moving right along…

We had the inspection for the house yesterday. It went mostly well. Lots of “You need this fixed immediately” but it can actually wait one or two or ten years. We do need a new furnace and a/c unit. The furnace is original. From 1956. But we knew we were going to need to purchase that, so that didn’t come as a shock. What we weren’t expecting was the sewer inspection showing that the clay sewer pipe has an insane number of stress cracks and has to be lined immediately. Or else we risk a total collapsed sewer pipe and poo-poo water everywhere. From what we read online, it’s not cheap to get it lined. Around $5000. Yikes. We’re trying to figure out how to get the sellers to pay for it.
Alright, enough about that crap. Here are some pictures…

I can’t wait to get a ton of funky secondhand pieces to fill the house with. The current owners have it decorated perfectly.

The bedrooms are just bedrooms. But they all have vaulted ceilings. And Tommy’s closet is filled with built-in bookshelves. Abby has her own bathroom with a shower. The basement pictures aren’t anything special but it’s a great space. So overall, a pretty kick-ass house.

Insert witty title here.

I’m too busy obsessing about the house to come up with anything clever. We got the appraisal back on Friday. It came back at exactly what we offered. To the dollar. So that’s excellent news. If it came back higher, we would have to pay the difference out-of-pocket. No thanks. I spent met of the weekend scouring the appraisal and looking at the pictures included in the report. We only saw the inside of the house once (not counting all the times we drive by and I try to see as much as I can through the windows. That’s not creepy, right?) And it was before Christmas. Plus, I went into crazy person mode when seeing the house because I was amazed by its awesomeness. Needless to say, some of the visual details slipped my mind. I was very happy to see that the bathroom tile is not pink, as I remembered it. The patio is a lot bigger than we thought and the kitchen is as well.
We’re having our inspection tomorrow. I’m so excited. I can’t wait to be inside of the house again. I am going to take a ton of pictures. Like, 500. 500,000.
And Matt spoke to our loan processor this morning. Apparently we should hear back by the end of the week as to whether we will get the mortgage. I’m sure I won’t get much sleep this week.

Hey honey…

I hate to break it to you, but when you say “I’m not bitching but…” and then proceed to complain, that’s the definition of bitching.

Grown-up stuff

Today, I dropped off all of the financial information for our mortgage. That’s the most adult thing I’ve ever done. Not the dropping it off part…the part about being responsible enough with our money for months and months to get a mortgage. We’ve lived on the cheap for awhile now. I mean, we always do because we’re a one-income family. But we’ve been super cheap for the past few months. We’ve eaten lots of spaghetti. Which is fine with me, because I could eat spaghetti four times a week and have zero complaints. I’ve had to skip visits to one of my good (great) friends who lives about an hour away to save gas/money. We haven’t been eating fast food. We wanted to stop that anyways as it’s expensive and the opposite of healthy. But these little things we’ve cut back on here and there have made a difference.
When we move, we’re getting rid of cable. So far, our plan is to get a fancy DVD player that can stream Netflix. So for the upfront cost of two months of cable/internet and $10 a month, we’ll be set. I’m going to get most of our furniture at secondhand stores and garage sales. The only new furniture we’re buying is a couch, a bed frame and mattress for us and a new mattress for Abby. We’ve gone to a few used furniture stores already. Here’s my issue…just because it’s “vintage” doesn’t mean I’m going to pay out my ass for it. If it’s an original Eames chair, I get it. But putting a $1200 price tag on a USED dining set is a bit ridiculous. I mean, it’s the exact dining set I want and the chairs are so cool. But $1200? You’re out of your mind. I need to work on my negotiating skills. “$600 and that’s my final offer. Take it or leave it, buddy.” Anne, driving hard bargains since 2013.

Thoughts of an insomniac…

I could not sleep last night. Ever since we started the home-buying process, I’ve definitely noticed a change in my sleep patterns. I know it’s because I can’t stop thinking about what can go wrong/what furniture to buy/the awesome parties we can have. I went to bed around 11:30 or so and laid awake until 3:30. I dozed off around 3 but when I turned over, I thought I saw a ghost next to my bed (I didn’t…it was just a shadow). But the adrenaline was enough to keep me up for awhile. So during this period of sleeplessness, I had ample time to think about lots o’stuff. Some of my early morning revelations…
– I’m going to give up salt. Well, maybe give up is too strong of a term. Let’s say cut back. I have always LOVED salt. When I was little, I would pour a little in my hand and eat it. That’s weird. I have low blood pressure so I’ve used that as an excuse. “I can’t help it, my body craves it. It’s not my fault!” The amount of salt I put on my food is ridiculous. Matt looks at me with disgust when he sees me seasoning my dinner plate. So, assuming I was born with a salt addiction, which I obviously was, I’ve been overdosing on salt for thirty years. Time to put the kibash on it. I’ve had one meal today and I didn’t touch the salt shaker. Small victories.
– I had some ideas for paintings. They’re quite simple, although I’m sure I’ll fuck up a bit. But I’m fine with that. The only way I’ll ever get more artistic is if I attempt to actually be artistic. And at the level I am now, I can only get better. Look at that positive attitude.
– I want to learn how to use power tools. I don’t want to have to rely on Matt to fix everything. I’m hoping to eventually know enough to make my own funky shelves.
– I was reflecting on some of the more memorable dreams I’ve had in my life and came to the conclusion that I’m a bit fucked up. I’ll write the weirdest of the weird in their own special post. You’ll want some popcorn for that one.

Rolling in the dog hair

When we adopted Luna five months ago, she didn’t shed. For months. She’s husky-German shepherd so I assumed that between these two notoriously sheddy breeds, perhaps her genes cancelled each other out and we really lucked out. Jackpot! Two months ago, reality arrived. Her fur falls out in insane amounts. Tumbleweeds of dog hair roll through the hallway, making me feel like I’m in a stupid Clint Eastwood western. And if there’s one place I don’t want to be, it’s anywhere around Clint Eastwood. With the amount if dog debris flying around the house, we would ideally vacuum every day or two. But I’m what you might call “a shitty housekeeper” so that doesn’t happen. I’m wondering if it would be easier to just directly vacuum Luna with the handy attachment. Ha. I’m just glad Matt manages a pet store so he can take her to the groom shop and they can brush out eight pounds of fur from her coat. That might buy me a couple of shed-free days. Maybe. But probably not.

You’ll eat it. You’ll eat it and you’ll like it…

You know what I love? Spending two hours making chicken pot pie…FROM SCRATCH…and my kids refusing to even look at it, much less eat it. Did I mention it was from scratch? Even the god damn crust.

When I was little, I was a notoriously picky eater. On my first trip to Disney World, at the age of four, I ate nothing but toast and yogurt for the entire week. One morning, we went to the character breakfast. I still remember the equal parts terror and anger I felt when Chip and Dale tried to get me to eat my bowl of Rice Krispies. Just who in the hell do you think you are?

I used to make my mom strain my spaghetti sauce so it wouldn’t have any chunks of tomato or meat in it. When we would get KFC, I would demand my mom get me food from McDonald’s because I refused to eat chicken until the age of 12 or so. And when she did get me McDonald’s, I ordered my burgers with no onions. I didn’t start eating those until I was 23. The point is, my mom catered to my picky, bitchy food weirdnesses. I do not do that with my children. If they don’t like what we’re eating, tough shit. That being said, I do have sympathies towards my kids’ own food quirks. For example, my six-year old Abby hates yogurt with fruit in it. I totally get that. Because that’s how I was. But if you think I’m going to make you a special meal because the chicken and veggies are TOUCHING EACH OTHER OH MY GOD THAT’S SO GROSS, you’ve got another thing coming, sister.

Cosmic punch in the face

Art. Creativity. Those have never been my strengths. When I was in high school, I took a few art classes. My teacher found me delightful but knew not to expect anything of worth from me. I didn’t complete a single assignment. I spent most of my time doing homework, going to the cafeteria to eat snacks and making collages from art books. My favorite one had a picture of Jesus with a thought bubble over his head that said “Mmm…donuts…” Because Jesus loved some mother fucking donuts. My friend and I actually started our own class within our art class that we dubbed Frisbee Tech. We would go outside and, you guessed it, play Frisbee. Somehow I not only passed my art class but I got an A. I also aced Frisbee Tech with flying colors.
So for years, my creative gene has layed dormant. I had a few years of marijuana inspired jewelry making. I will make you a killer hemp necklace. But other than that, I’ve got nothing.
When my husband and I recently found our dream house, things changed. I started feeling a strong desire to create. I have never cared about decorating. Ever. Now I spend most of my free time (and time I should be doing other more important things, like cleaning) looking online and in magazines for inspiration for our soon-to-be home. And in a mid-century modern home, art is a major part of giving the home the right look. We went to the DIA this weekend (Detroit Institute of Arts for all of you not living in the mitten). For the first time in my life, I was inspired by some of the pieces I saw. I stood in front of paintings and had my Ferris Bueller moment. I thought to myself, “I can do this. I can put myself out there and make something for our home.” I’ve been all abuzz in my busy little head since then.
This evening, my best friend texted me. She confessed she too has been thinking about creating art for her home. I told her I was thinking the exact same thing, I just hadn’t brought it up to anyone because of my own insecurities. So we decided to support each other in our projects. End of story? No. Literally five seconds after we had texted this, I received another text from a woman I know. I started out baby-sitting her wonderful daughter but we’re connecting on a grander scale lately. She told me that the group of artists she meets with wanted me to join. Me. The person who’s not an artist. The person who’s not an artist but five seconds before had decided to try it because I have nothing to lose. And so I’m going to paint. I’m going to create. I’m going to step outside of my warm little comfort zone and do something completely different. And I can’t wait. Thank you, universe. You gave me the push I needed.

My contribution to society…

I’m going to start a support group for individuals going through the mortgage process. You know why? Because it FUCKING SUCKS. I need a hug, I need reassurance, I need someone to listen to me complain about our stupid loan officer. We literally just got the ball rolling on this a few days ago and I’m already a nervous wreck. It took me a long time to fall asleep last night and once I did drift off, I kept having weird dreams about our soon-to-be home. I also had a dream that I went on a camping trip with a big burly gay guy. We were having a great time until the large Asian family showed up and starting being all loud and obnoxious. Jerks.
Anyways, this is awful. I know everyone goes through this and it’s completely normal to be in a mortgage application haze for weeks but it doesn’t make it any easier. Other than drinking heavily, what advice to you have for this first-time homebuyer/future mental patient?