I should preface this story by telling you that most of the houses in this neighborhood are out of my single-gal income price range, but from the outside, this house looked small, quaint, and not particularly fancy. Perhaps, I thought, it’s as modest on the inside as it is on the outside and I’d get lucky.
The instant I stepped foot in the house, I realized two things –
- I was definitely not getting lucky, as this house had definitely been renovated and would, therefore, be expensive. (Read: Not for me)
- I had been in this house before. More than once. Mostly (maybe all) for late-night, booze-filled parties.
I introduced myself and immediately asked her a question that had absolutely nothing to do with real estate and therefore onethat completely caught her off guard.
“Did a group of guys used to live in this house?,” I asked eagerly.
She looked at me with exasperation and disgust in her eyes as she reluctantly nodded and said, “Yes.”
I couldn’t contain my excitement that I'd solved my own riddle.
“HA!,” I laughed. “I KNEW I’d been in this house before! I know the guys that used to live here.”
Her pleasant demeanor changed somewhat, and her disgust with the no-named boys that used to live there seemed to turn into disgust with me - as if I’d contributed to the house overhaul that was required after my friends moved out.
I didn’t have to tell her (but proceeded to anyway) that there was no way I needed or could afford the five bedroom, three bathroom, now-pristine-after-a-huge-renovation home.
I instead took a self-guided tour and enjoyed a leisurely trip through the house and down memory lane.
The whole experience was quite amusing.
Just like I’m always one step away from moving away or settling down, it seems I’m also tip-toeing into adulthood and responsibilities like full-time employment and home ownership, while still keeping one foot firmly planted in immaturity and bad decision making.
Later that day, I saw this amazing picture on Facebook of my friend Kyle standing in front of another friend's house she had just toilet papered, or "rolled" as we used to call it in high school.
Besides loving the picture (and activity) immensely, I was happy that I’m not alone.
Part time adults, part time idiots.
Full time awesome.