You know how when your grandma finds you a house and tours it for you? (That’s a thing, right?) And then she meets with the owner and calls you by your middle name when you don’t respond to her quick enough? Well every now and then they hit a blue ribbon winner. A small, quaint, old (huge perk for me) house with a yard roughly 10-times the size of the house. A deal too good to pass.
My Grandma, Face Eagle (a oronym for her actual name) gets things done. While most grandmas might say, “You’re looking for a house, that’s great.” Face Eagle says, “I set up two appointments for tomorrow; I’ll let you know if I like them.” In this case, she happened to like the house, as did I.
Was it weird having my Grandma search the house and then tell the owner a little too much personal info? Maybe, or at least it sounds like it should. But Face Eagle is a real do-er, and when she’s gung-ho about helping, it’s best to get out of her way. Like the time my parents went on vacation and she wall papered their entire kitchen. Or the other time, five years later, she did it with the living room. She’s also sewn me curtains, Halloween costumes, tended my and Manny’s garden, and fashioned throw pillows – all with little-to-no suggestions. And on the scale of her viewing a house to her discussing my bra size in front of my Grandpa, I’ll take the house searching any day.
And really, I could probably pick up some paint and come back to a freshly painted home. I’m a list of hints away from doing zero work here.
For some context:
Manny and I have been looking to buy a house.* We’ve been intercepted, dissed, and pulled through as many wringers that exist. And we are just newbs; I can’t imagine the hardcore buyers who do this on a regular basis. I’d almost choose a semi stable career, like modeling, before I’d become a full-time property purchaser.
At the risk of creating an ongoing jinx, I think we’ve finally found a keeper. Face Eagle’s top-notch location skills found it, that is. If she were a private investigator, she’d be the most obvious one around, but criminals would quickly volunteer their most troublesome deets, if only to make the phone calls stop. And if the talking didn’t pressure you, she’d buy lunch and send motivational chain emails until you caved.
Anyway, after two failed attempts, you can imagine our excitement at finding a to-call-ours house, especially one that fares up better than the rest. But there’s just one little hitch … we have to rent it before we can buy it. Like some sort of rent-to-own couch or payday loan, we’re signing a lease before signing a mortgage. Sure, we could have waited, and hoped no one tried to rent before all the paperwork went through. But we weren’t letting another scheming pirate steal it out from under us. Not this time, you bloody wenches. I’ll peg a stranger with my wooden leg before I’ll loose another house; like prison or meals with fat Monica Geller, being vicious is the only way to survive.
*FAQ Are Manny and I married and/or engaged?
No. Just ask my mother and grandmas, they ask every other day. But with interest rates like these, houses are selling themselves. Weddings are negotiable; who knows when the real estate market will pick back up.