I'll give the credit to the post title to my college roommate Naomi. But the fact remains that the home inspection report on our current death trap came back today and, apparently, the crawl space below our family room may very well be a portal into the afterlife.
We know that the folks buying the house are cash poor (hey, aren't we all?) because we negotiated with them on percentage, not price. Basically, they were worried about closing costs. They don't have the money for them. So, now the home inspection comes back and they want 6 windows replaced, and a new sump pump (which is crap, because ours works fine and we've never had water in the basement), the electrical box brought to code (AGAIN - screwed by Conrad! The little bastard totally should have caught that on OUR inspection!!!) and wood hauled out of the crawl space.
My father believes that all of this is a collective bargaining chip to get either the price lowered or money thrown at them. I am so emotionally through with this house that their ploy may very well work. Our relator is offering them $500 to take the house and leave us the hell alone. I am guessing this is phase 2 of negotiations. Erg. I hate this process. Have I mentioned how much I love the people from whom we are buying our house? We all agreed to play nice and make it easy on one another. The snarky little weasels buying this crap hole didn't get the memo.
My cure for all of this is to go to Erin's tomorrow and drink way too many Margaritas at her Fifth of May Celebration. I will continue my investigation as to whether she actually brought Phil back to Ohio with her, or if his existence is just an elaborate ruse. Then we will proceed to be home by 6 so that our tipsy butts can go out to celebrate Ellen's birthday. Ole'!
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