|"As sure as the rick rack on that dress, Marlene, we'll be out of this house by 2018."|
Which is unfortunate because I was planning on starting today's post by telling you guys about my perfectly clean house and how the kids haven't punched each other in the face at all this week. Lucky for you, I'm a terrible liar and it would take a world class liar to pull a straight face and convey how she doesn't have piles of rice all over her deck.
Can I just say that letting kids eat outside sounds and looks great on the cover of Family Fun, but in reality, turns into a scene a scene from The Godfather.
"You touch my rice?"
"I saw you touch my food."
"I'm comin' after your food, your family's food, and any food you ever thought about eating."
*Non-friendly rice fire is exchanged on both sides.*
Coppola probably had an easier time making that movie than I have keeping that deck clean. Which is a tad frustrating, considering my main goal right now is to clean, fix and get this popsicle stand onto its next owners. (By the way, if you're in the market for a charming split-level that's been extensively blogged about, I might have something you'd be interested in.)
Power washing grain off porches aside, the name of the game right now is estimates. Morning, noon, and night, calculations for the our newest financial undertaking eat up my brain's spare time. For example:
Me: So, here's the thing. A long time ago, I decided I knew something about carpentry and tried to replace the trim around this door.
Handyman: I did see it's on upside down and backwards. Is that crazy glue?"
Me: You hit the nail on the head.
Me: I bet you hear that all the time. Anywho, what are we looking at, price-wise? Ten? Ten dollars and fifty cents?
Handyman: Well, including the rotting trim on the back door, it'll be 235.00.
Me: I guess I could take another crack at it.
Me: I was thinking we could list the house for this much.
Realtor: Hmm, I was actually thinking this much.
Me: Couldn't we just say a Kardashian was born here or something? I hear homes sell for ten times their actual value when they're marketed as an homage to an insignificant and fleeting piece of pop culture.
Me: So how much do we have to put down to get this property?
Broker: Probably this much.
Me: That's an interesting figure.
Broker: It's pretty accurate. I like to err on the side of too high, rather than too low.
Me: I may have to err on the side of raising my family in refrigerator box behind the local theater.
Me: Research says we can't find a handle to replace the one on the storm door.
Me: Experts have concluded it was forged by some sort of wizardry in a local mountain.
Husband: Rip it out?
Me: Finally, a plan I can get behind.
So there you have it. The next couple weekends will be dedicated to more painting, more estimates, and a battle we may or may not win with the front door. I may not be able to control the outcome of this whole house debacle, but I do know one thing...
No more rice for the Kellerman children.
Until Next Time, Readers!
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