But. We are in the inspection phase of our new house and so far so good. I mean, no termites. That's a plus, right? So. Here she is.
No pictures of the inside to share. I mean I have them but it's staged horribly and do I know you? Anyway. We are scheduled to close on the 30th at the latest. Which is good because I think the people upstairs are actually trying to kill me. I am pretty sure they have nightly 'dance dance revolution' tournaments and I know the rearrange furniture hourly. Serious. Hourly. Doesn't bother the kids. It's me they are trying to kill.
So. We wait on the plumber, and the roofer, and the floor guy, to make sure we aren't buying a money pit and in the meantime I emailed the mom out of the neighorhood magazine (yep, neighborhood magazine) about play groups. Know what she told me? That our section of the neighborhood does monthly 'flamingo mingles' (I can totally get into that) and that there's a luau at the end of August that she is bringing us to so we can meet everyone. Oh and that there are kids at every house. I mean. I cried. Just a little bit. But I am dying for a sense of community. For friends and wine on a back porch. For my wine glasses. And my furniture. And some toys. Blah blah.
I will make you a deal. From now until we close I will only complain about the apartment once a week. Promise.
Happy Monday friends. Off to walk the dog down three flights of stairs so he can pee. Please don't poop... please don't poop...
The Best part? It's more wonderful than the first house.