Well, this is my lame attempt, and tonight will be brief, to toss out a few thoughts that should have been on Monday's meme-ish sort of day, but as I was late and may be again I have devised my own back up system (Inotherwords to cover my butt, and for those who wonder, it is quite fine for a minister to say "butt.") so that in the future if I am running late I shall have a back-up plan...
Okay, here's a few things that I was thinking might be kind of mysterious, given that the last meme for Mysterious Mondays probably wasn't mysterious at all, just plain peculiar....(shaking head sadly...).
* You would have to read my blog Unimaginable Dreams Made Manifest to understand at all where I'm going with this, perhaps, but then I believe that this is a bit of a universal experience that sadly, all too many people have had.
Okay, there you are, all excited. You know you have to take your time and be reasonable about looking, don't jump at the first thing you see, and if an owner or a real estate agent (other than your own) is around, you kind of move slowly, conjuring up a very concerned expression, and make lots of notes in a notebook you carried in with you. It's okay if it's your grocery list. THEY are going to think you are making a list of things you DON'T like, or feel unacceptable, or at the worst might have to be fixed. Yes, buying a house is psychological warfare, and woebetide the owner or seller who doesn't know how to play the game and gives too much information away. You might as well just tear up the contract, apologize, and say that you screwed up and you know it, and walk out. Of course this could work too because sellers these days are SO desperate that that they are practically giving houses away so they might run after you, fall on their knees, and beg. Pitiful really, but if it works, so be it. All's fair is love, and war, and buying houses.
Ok -- now hold on to your horses, I'm getting there. Sheesh, everybody is in such a rush these days... Ok, now here's the kicker. You and your realtor spend so much time online and otherwise looking for appropriate houses to look at, and in the pictures that they show up you ooh and ah, and are CERTAIN that THIS is the house you have been looking for all of your life.
(Note, having had a terrible experience with this sort of thing last Friday, which you can again read about on my blog Unimaginable Dreams Made Manifest and even SEE some of the houses we were looking at, you will understand what I mean when I say that they take pictures that make it look all warm and cozy or like a palace, and when you get there your heart falls down to your feet and out of your toes before you are even out of the car.
The little blue cottage of my dreams, built in 1910 and remodelled in the 70's that after I wrote the piece about it and included the picture, hordes of people wrote in to say, "OH, that's just the kind of little cottage I've wanted ALL my life. You're so lucky. I hope you get it. " I so appreciated their kindness and support, but believe you me, if they saw it they would run for their lives.
We were so excited we went there first. There was no front yard, it fronted on an alley, and we had to park the car on a concrete slab. This did not bode well. Still, I was not giving up on my dream. We went inside. First, we were nearly knocked over by the stench of mold, mildew, and I'm sure I don't want to know what else. Everything was falling apart at the seams. I gasped in horror and I would have leaned against the wall but I was afraid to touch it. The arched window I fell in love with outside were supported by rotted wood with the paint falling off, and when Jeff walked out the rear and said, "C'mere a minute Maitri." I knew it wasn't going to be good.
As we stood precariously on the wee bit of back porch, Jeff pointed out quite a number of holes. Honey I'm talkin' holes that went all the way through the walls and let the rain in. I'm sure the rats had a ball, but I was horrified.
We walked around the house with great difficulty. I mean it when I say there was NO yard at all. AT ALL. And what little was there was weeds, broken glass, and worse.
What I'm getting at -- and I do have a point in all of this -- when Susan and I went today to look, the house we thought we wouldn't care for was the house we loved, and the house we thought would be a dream was a bust, and it all came down to the pictures in the catalog. So herein lies The Mysterious Monday part of it... (Anybody who says "A day late and a dollar short," is going to get knocked on his or her keester!)
Why, oh WHY, do the people who take the pictures of the houses for the catalogs and whatnot of these houses put pictures at odd sneaky angles and write a charming descriptions, causing you to drive all over creation, only to find out that is is a dump and nothing LIKE the picture.
I know this is mysterious. I believe that this is a crime against humanity or at least homebuyers. I don't care how great the pictures and descriptions are, I'm telling you that you need to go look, be prepared for it not to be what it seems, pray tell DO look, because you might be surprised, but know that there are some shady realtors out there who will cheat and get you to go look at a dump. But to what end? You're GOING to see it. YOU'RE going to know. Why all the subterfuge, lost time, and in today when gas prices are ridiculous, you are going to waste a lot of gas tracking down shacks.
I find this mysterious. Why do they do this?