Our landlord might be bonkers. Remember a few weeks ago when I had a grand mal hissy fit? To be more specific, we ask our landlord to spend a measly $350 to fix the roof and he's like "screw that, I'm selling the place"?
Our response at the time was shitfuckdamndothetaxes, wait, do we even want this place? No? Yes? Crap. Why is the IRS sending us hate mail? dothetaxesdothetaxes Do. The. Fucking. Taxes.
One victory rant later and we're ready to rock and roll. Local first time home buyer program? Applied! Real estate and banking connections? Contacted! Reviewing local neighborhood / real estate market? Watched! Offered to buy directly from the landlord (we cut out the realtor and pass the savings on to meeeeee!)? E-mailed! Going through the boxes in basement and getting rid of the detritus of years? Garage sale'd! We're firing on all cylinders. We're getting stuff done. I'm loaded for boar. I'm preparing for the apocalypse.
In the midst of all this badassery we notice that the landlord hasn't responded. Whatever. We're holding weekly garage sales with Mother Magoo, Aunt MacGuff, Eeyore, and Courtney. (Well, we're hosting parties with our friends and selling stuff while we do it.) Weeks pass and nothing. We realize our initial concern -- leaky roof -- was never handled. We follow up on Friday. Saturday, the Garage Sale of Revelations occurs. Specifically, the Revelation that our landlord is a LYING SACK OF CRAP.
What happened? Find out in Thursday's post!
(Ok, I meant to do this in one post but um, I'm sleepy. Sorry.)