Extreme apartment makeover

Friday, March 18, 2011

I tend to let my imagination of the future run away with me and get a little too excited a little too prematurely.  This has resulted in several raised eyebrows and exasperated looks from Clayton as he sits to the side and observes me as I plan for a life that doesn't even technically exist yet.

He's watched me plan out my hypothetical baby rooms several years ago and can tell you exactly where my "wish box" is located that contains all of the swatches and magazine cut-outs of what my yet-to-be-determined babies' nurseries are going to look like-- cribs, changing tables, curtains and all. He turned a blind eye once as I stole home renovation magazines from a doctor's office waiting room because "I'll just never be able to remember exactly what this shade of blue is called" and "I need this picture to reference when we're picking out kitchen cabinetry".

He usually just says nothing or casually interjects things like "The idea of motherhood makes you break out into hives, why do you need to decide what kind of rocking chair you want?". But Clayton knows me too well and knows it's best to just let me be and let whatever obession I'm currently experiencing to just run its course so I can move on to the next thing.

However, I know something is a good idea and I feel less guilty for being a weird little spaz when I know Clayton is on board.  If Clayton approves of something, then it has to be sane and logical.  And that's exactly how I felt yesterday when Clayton got home from work.

When he came home I was still working on freelance stuff and had the laptop running.  He told me that he drove past a house that was a second-home of a lady I babysat/cleaned for in college and saw that it was for sale.  I always loved cleaning that little bungalo because it was renovated to look like a retro 1950's-style house.  So, curious, I went searching for it online and saw that sure enough, it was on sale (and outrageously priced, I might add).  I continued perusing the website, knowing full-well that I shouldn't because of the very reasons I mentioned above.  In fact, Clayton and I made a pact that we I would be forbidden to look at houses until the time was right because I inevitably would find something that was perfect and that I had to have right now, regardless of the apartment lease we're under until November. But I looked anyway ... and found houses that were perfect and that I had to have right now, regardless of the apartment lease we're under until November.  I kept "ooo!"ing and "ah!"ing from my chair, begging Clayton to at least come and just look at the pictures.

But then Clayton shocked me.  When I started describing a kitchen [I will buy a house based solely on the kitchen because I want a extra counter space, an island, and a glass cooktop oven (or, in a perfect world, a double wall oven) that badly] that was pictured, he interuppted me and said, "Yeah, I know the place you're talking about.  The cute little brown two bedroom with the fence?"

Instinct told me he was pychic, but logic told me that was stupid. So I had to ask, "How do you know that?"

"Oh, I started looking at houses recently".

Jackpot.

I'm in.

When we signed our final lease with this apartment back in January 2010 (isn't is INSANE how early they make you renew?), we knew it was with the intention of being our last year before we purchased a home.  Lord willing our finances will still be in order and, if so, we will start the process late this summer.

Now, if you'll excuse me, I have to run over to the doctor's office waiting room to get ... um ... A pelvic exam? A physical? Surgery? Xrays?

Yeah, that's it. Xrays.


My 7k race is tomorrow and I've done little to prepare for it today other than politely (and begrudginly) pass on the offer of alcohol.  The girl I work with who is also in charge of the event told me all about the course and how much fun she had marking the miles on her lunch break.  "Are the miles pretty clearly marked?" I asked, which was my thinly-veiled pondering of "Am I going to get really, really lost?"

"Oh, this course is super easy to navigate.  You have to be the stupidest person on the planet to get lost on it."

Laughing nervously, I responded, "That's good to know! I'm sure there will be lots of volunteers to mark the turns anyway?", which was really my thinly-veiled pondering of "No, seriously, if there was ever someone to be that incredibly stupid and get lost, I would be that person."

She giggled at my question. "The volunteers would think that anyone who got lost was the stupidest moron who ever lived.  It's that easy. Gosh, could you imagine someone being that dumb and getting lost on a 4 mile course?"

I smiled and shook my head, which was my thinly-veiled response of "Why, yes. Yes I can."

You Might Also Like

1 comments

Navigation-Menus (Do Not Edit Here!)