How can we be lovers if we can’t be friends?

Today, we had the inspection on our house. It was built in 1929, has been empty for a few weeks, and was a foreclosure. Oh, and the former occupant trashed it before moving out.

A lot could have been wrong.

But the real estate gods were smiling upon us! The foundation is solid. The roof has several years of life left. Yes, there’s some wood rot, and yes, the dishwasher leaks and needs a new seal. But other than that?

Well, other than that, we were faced with the trash filling the house. So, while the inspectors inspected, My Guy, Awesome Realtor Guy and I filled trashbags with stuff left behind by the last owner.

We found a half-full bowl of mostly fossilized rice and beans. In a drawer. In the master bathroom.

And gay porn. With pictures on the DVD case. Educational pictures.

And, of course, we found a Michael Bolton “Soul Provider” CD. Which we were actually really excited about. Because we are giant nerds.

We don’t close until after Christmas, but today gave us an opportunity to at least get the trash out of the house, and sort through our own personal flea market in the garage.

Yes, that’s a shopping cart full of hubcaps. I saved the shopping cart. The hubcaps? They went in the dumpster pile.

We also realized that the paint colors we’ve already picked out – because good LORD, we feel like we need to be doing SOMETHING – will be perfect.

One of the bedrooms is black stripped. For now.

Currently, most of the main living space is this lovely color of pumpkin vomit.

And this potted plant obviously sold the house. We took one look at this prime example of fauna and knew this was the home for us.

There’s so much cleaning and painting and painting and cleaning to be done, but right now, we’re just hanging out. But this is totally meant to be our house. And we’re pretty fucking pumped.