I don't know why I thought spending the weekend in the OC looking for a new place to live would be relaxing and fun because it just wasn't.
A week ago our biggest concern was potentially having to pay both rent and the mortgage for a month or two. The boyfriend had found an amazing condo, but there were other applications in on it and if we wanted it we would have had to take possession today. And we didn't feel we'd be moving until the end of March. But the owners mysteriously and abruptly took the unit off the market the same day the Bako house sold and here we were, under the gun, trying to find someplace to spend at least the next year.
I drove down Saturday morning and after a dropping the dogs and a brief visit with the folks, we were off house hunting.
First up was another condo the boyfriend had found near his work. He had visited it earlier in the week and said it was going through a complete remodel. It was nice enough, but seemed a bit small to me. There was a full work crew there putting the finishing touches on a brand new kitchen, new floors and painting. Which was kind of an issue. When we showed up they were in the process of painting the main accent wall in the living room bright daffodil yellow. What the hell were they thinking? "Ask the landlord if we could paint that back to white" I told the boyfriend. It wasn't a deal killer so we kept it on the list.
We drove by more places, checking them off due to location or condition. We made an appointment to see one that seemed really promising. It was really close to my parents and looked amazing online. We met an agent at the unit and it really seemed like it could be our dream home. Except for the fact that it backed up on a major thouroughfare.
"Do you think the noise is going to be an issue?" I asked the boyfriend.
"What?" he said.
"Do you think the noise is going to be an issue?"
"WHAT??"
"DO YOU THINK THE NOISE IS GOING TO BE AN ISSUE?"
The question somewhat answered itself.
We were getting a little dispirited and desperate, but we still had one last showing set up.
It was kind of an odd situation. We would be meeting with the tenant, not the landlord. It seems the tenant had only lived there six months and was in a situation where she needed to break her lease and the landlord had put the onus of finding a new renter on her. We were buzzed into the complex and met the tenant out in front of the unit.
Tina.
Tina was a round sort of woman and appeared to be in her late 30's. After the brief introductions she launched into her tale of woe. She had moved into the condo with her elderly father and after only three months he had gotten ill and unexpectedly passed away. There was more to the story, much more, something about a mobile home and a feud with her brother, a fraudulent power-of-attorney... Frankly, it didn't make a whole lot of sense. The bottom line was her father had paid the rent with his Social Security check. "I haven't worked in years" Tina said, somewhat proudly. "I'm on disability." Probably with some nebulous and unverifiable "anxiety disorder". I definitely got the sense that the thought of work made Tina anxious. All the same, I did feel somewhat sorry for her, being forced to move because of the death of her father. Which proved not to really be the case. It turns out her father had left her enough money to buy a double wide somewhere out in the 909. "Paid all cash for it" said Tina.
So on to the house.
One thing was clear. Tina is a hoarder.
We walked into the living room and it was filled to eye level with boxes and plastic bins full of what looked like dolls and other tchotchkes. I assumed she was just in the process of packing.
"I'm going to start packing this week" said Tina.
All riiiighty.
The clutter wasn't the most frightening thing. Smack dab in the center of the room was a massive flat screen TV, one of the biggest I've ever seen. And it was tuned to C-SPAN with live coverage of the wingnut lollapalooza, the Conservative Political Action Conference in DC. Walking into the living room we were greeted by the monstrous, ghoulish image of Sarah Palin's demonic head, six times larger than life.
Tina is a Right Wing hoarder.
I was reminded of images from the Tea Party hoopla back in 2010, heavy set people in patriotic garb and tri-corner hats, tooling around in free, Medicare-paid-for Hoverounds, waving signs protesting government spending. I wondered if it ever dawned on Tina that if her Republicans take control she might have substantially less disability money to spend on QVC.
Whatever.
If you could look past all the crap, the unit was really quite nice. Perfect, actually. It was a couple hundred dollars over our budget, but for the space and location, it seemed worth the price. If we really budget, it was completely doable. We took rental applications and later that night made the final decision... we were going to go for it.
The boyfriend wavered on Monday, worried about the increased cost. He was leaning back towards the first unit we looked at which was $200 under budget. On his lunch hour he went back to check it out once again, which sealed the deal. Turns out the daffodil yellow wasn't just for an accent wall. The entire house, every wall in every room, was now eye blistering yellow. And the landlord was not open to repainting. I would go insane living there. And blind.
So it looks like we're moving into Tina's condo. Provided she can truck all her junk out in time. Which is a real concern.
I have to say that I had an epiphany of sorts after meeting Tina.
I realized I may not have to give this blog up after all.
