Thursday, March 13, 2008
Oops, I Don't Care

Click on image to enlarge (and see the gouge in my purple wall)

This is the house that Jack built. This is the wall in the house that Jack built. This is the gouge in the wall of the house that Jack built. This is the sound of money rapidly draining out of my wallet thanks to the gouge in the wall and the hole in the ceiling and the mud on the new carpet of the house that Jack built. Sounds like Jack should have built a better house, eh? That damned bastard Jack.

So, PFB (pig faced bitch) told my real estate agent that she would make an offer if we addressed the issue of a couple of spongy areas she felt in Jasmine’s room. I talked to my eldest and he offered to put a new floor in that room on Saturday with his friends. What the hell was wrong with me? Has living alone warped my brain so bad that I have no common sense anymore? Obviously. So day one commenced with them having to use my Pathfinder to go to the hardware store to buy the lumber. I guess they figured that even though I am a non-smoker, I would never realize they had smoked in my “never before been smoked in” SUV. I have yet to be able to get the smell out. I find that the smell goes really well with the deep scratches and gouges on the interior of my two year old Pathfinder that they managed to do in one of their many trips to the hardware store. I am not sure if the scratches on the outside of my SUV were done on day one or day two of the project. And then there is the problem with the passenger side front door. Again, I am not sure what they did to cause the door to not be able to shut properly now, but hey, I saved a couple of hundred on the flooring job so it’s all good. Right? So what that I had to buy new ceiling tiles for them to fix the ceiling their fell through, or the fact that I had to paint the entire room because of the path job they did on the gouge they put in the bedroom wall. And why be upset over the stains they got in my new carpet, after all a carpet os going to get wear and tear eventually, right? And surely it wasn’t their fault that they put huge, deep tire ruts in the front yard, because how were they to know that the ground would be so soft from all the melting snow. Shall I go on?


Click on image to enlarge (and see my double chin)

Day two of replacing the floor in Jas’s room is just as annoying as day one. The only difference being that no one fell through the ceiling on day two. One of the people brought some annoying eight-year-old girl with him. Like there wasn’t enough going on here. She was the most loud mouthed, unruly child I have ever had the displeasure to meet. She kept trying to go upstairs and get in the guys way as they were installing the new floor in Jasmine’s room. I flat out told her not to go upstairs and as she was walking upstairs she would tell me “it’s okay, I’m allowed.” I would tell her, “no your not, now get down here now.” She would give me grief and then when I would turn my back, she would walk up the steps again. She needed a good butt whipping if you ask me. It was obvious the girl had never heard the word “no” in her life.

By the time everyone finally left on Sunday night I just broke down and had myself a good cry. After awhile I pulled myself together because after all, I would be getting an offer on the house in the next day or two from PFB. Monday arrives and no offer. Then Tuesday morning I get a call from my agent. PFB wants to come by with her agent that afternoon prior to making an offer. I was excited and relieved. Finally, an offer. Tuesday night I waited for the call from my agent letting me know about the offer. No call. Finally on Wednesday I get a voice mail from my agent. She tells me that PFB said she wants new a new floor put in each of the three bedrooms upstairs, the upstairs hallway, the upstairs bathroom and all of the steps leading to the upstairs to be replaced. All this for two spongy spots in one of the bedrooms. My agent tells PFB’s agent that I had the entire floor replaced over the weekend. PFB’s agent says she doesn’t believe it and that nothing was done to that room. Then she insists that all of the new flooring she mentioned and the new steps be completed before they will submit an offer. I was floored! No pun intended. I was so insulted. I don’t feel a damned thing wrong with the flooring upstairs, nor with the steps. Granted, there is one step that creaks when you step on it, but you don’t put new steps in for one creaky step. I told my agent to tell PFB to piss up a rope, I wasn’t doing any of that. If we bowed to her commands, then she would want a new roof, then a new this or new that, the list would never end. And she would offer us mere pennies, instead of what we are asking. No, PFB can kiss my big fat creaky, spongy butt!

So as you can imagine, I’ve been severely depressed ever since that phone call. I didn’t even want to go out of the house today. This evening I forced myself to get out for a little bit. I’d be just as happy laying in bed all day and all night. I’ve given up. I’ll never get to move to MD with my husband. I don’t even know if I care enough to move anyway. He is so busy with his new life, his new job, his new state, that he didn’t even call me until since Saturday morning until yesterday evening (Wednesday). And that was just to find out if an offer had been made. He hasn’t asked how I am or what I’ve been doing or anything. He just bubbles on about how he loves his new job. I cut my finger so badly this afternoon that I really should have had stitches. I start telling him about it and he cuts me off, telling me about how he took some fella’s out to lunch. So I just stopped talking. I let him ramble on for the rest of the phone call and he didn’t even notice he was the only one talking. And you know what? I don’t even care.
 
posted by Daisy Martin at 6:38 PM | Permalink |


4 Comments:


  • At March 13, 2008 at 9:24 PM, Anonymous ern

    okay like I said, selling a house sux. You got one helluva PFB there. She would've hunted you down after closing and wanted more, more, more. Actually, given your penchant for reportage, I think you should keep track of this stuff, especially hubby's, uhm, inability to empathsize(sp?). Actually, you could ask your friends for house selling/buying disasters they've had. You could make a compilation of stories. You could make it a competition and rank the stories from worst to totally hellish... then turn it into mock real estate listings... OR you could just go get 10 boxes of girl scout cookies and eat chocolate till you feel better...

     
  • At March 14, 2008 at 8:31 AM, Blogger Tracy Lynn

    Dude, Sorry about the suckage.

     
  • At March 15, 2008 at 9:11 AM, Blogger Sam

    (((((((((((((HUGS))))))))))))))

    :-(

     
  • At March 15, 2008 at 9:23 PM, Anonymous Anonymous

    You are woman hear me roar! Remember that.. you are strong you are woman... and you can kick ass!! if you need any help just let me know.. I am in the ass kicking mood and would be happy to help out my dear friend! :-)