Hey, I'm here. Last month I was over there. It feels as though I've moved everywhere. But now I've relocated from there to here and I'm here now.
It's been a whirlwind 14 years since the Infidel family has packed up the crap collection we call belongings in order to move out of our hillbilly house.
Ye Olde Infidel Ghetto Estate..........that was our very first home purchase and we were probably suckered at every turn.
What can I say? I was an inexperienced 22 year old with raging nesting instincts and a low tolerance for neighbors living one sliver of sheetrock away from me.
Ask me sometime about the lady next door when we were doing time in Condominium Prison. She blared OOMPAH! OOMPAH! polka music all day everyday until the shared mirrored living room wall between us shook with the mighty force of a million tubas exploding in unison. That was fun. She was both our home purchase inspiration and the polka wind beneath our wings.
Ye Olde Ghetto Manor saw a lot of action and served as a backdrop for neverending Infidel memories.
Three of my six kids were born right there in the bathtub. We didn't use that tidbit as a selling point to potential buyers, though because I'm sure they may not appreciate the mental images of a fat squatting, grunting woman squeezing babies out into this world in the same place where they want to cherish their fabled "Calgon, Take Me Away" moments.
We endured and managed to live through many hurricanes, cooking disasters, a nosy neighbor who we only referred to as "Crazy Redhead Woman," our garden torture chamber where countless innocent azaleas and pansies were sent to die, heat and air conditioning failures, everyone's favorite guessing game "Spit, Plumbing, or Leaky Roof?" along with endless rounds of "Name That Carpet Stain!" and witnessing my very own ghetto repairman husband in action.
Papi is the most innovative fix-it dude you'll ever meet. I called him the Good Enough Guy because he fixed stuff with a random assortment of other unrelated stuff just so we wouldn't have to spend money at Home Depot. Was it perfect? No. It was Good Enough.
After another bits and pieces job I'd slap Papi on the back and triumphantly crow "It's not good, but it's good enough!"
Being a home owner was a valuable experience--a valuable experience that I never in this lifetime want to replicate.
The constantly ascending taxes, HOA fees and their condescending warning letters over minor infractions, escalating utilities, perpetual maintenance and repair bills, watching our property values plummet as they prepare our street to become a major thoroughfare that will connect heavyily-trafficked roadways.......
So, yes, we auditioned and joined the real life nationwide cast of RENT! now playing in cities and towns across America.
If that wasn't crazy enough I've added 11 credit hours to my schedule this semester.
At least I'm studying in the pristine comfort of a working A/C and a mega-flush toilet which lessens the misery somewhat.
I honestly think our landlords smuggled this toilet in from another dimension called Toiletopia.......or perhaps they bargained with a black-market potty crime syndicate because this piece of porcelain is miraculous. It thumbs its flush handle nose at all those lame energy saver commodes that forces you to flush multiple times thereby defeating the purpose.
"Oh yes, they call me The Streak........"
Well friend, maybe you should fix that by investing in a super-swirl wonder flush like I got. Nobody will call me "The Streak" now!
It's as though I own a small piece of Niagara Falls right here in my humble Texas bathroom.....and that makes me blissfully happy.
