Lovecats

After the last post's riveting saga of the perfect leather jacket, I figured we could all use some cute kittens, don't you think? I have to once again give credit where credit is due, for the magical jade sunroom and eggplant purple loveseat belong to our fabulous friends and generous hosts in Jamaica Plain. Well, technically the loveseat is the domain of Sir Teddy James - hence the cat fur all over my cords - you'll meet him a bit later on.

The house hunt continues mercilessly, by the way, and M is headed back out there in a week or so to start from square one all over again. We've tried to buy two separate houses and both times our inspector has rescued us from walking into an utter money pit. He doesn't come cheap, but his work is so thorough and remarkable that it more than pays for itself. He's saved us from throwing away tens of thousands of dollars (that's just in repairs and fix-it work; in reality it's potentially so much more) and we love him to death.

I am not ready to talk about the rest of it. It's too much! I had to bow out of Camp Autostraddle because everything has gone awry with regards to timing! But eventually you can bet your ass that there will be a FFAF Guide to Buying a Home, and you'll be the first to know. Until then, read on for a short list of my most entertaining tweets on the subject (and, of course, KITTENS)...

WEEK ONE: PROPERTY VIRGINS

*Please note the absence of tweets in between the first and last days of house hunting during that first week.

AWESOME TIP: If your real estate agent is any good, you'll feel like you're working for her instead of the other way around. We weren't quite prepared for that, nor did we anticipate that the pace would be so frantic and nonstop. We had to cry uncle a few times when 3PM rolled around and we were near collapse from skipping lunch to power through a jam-packed schedule.

WEEK TWO: If someone told me a year ago that I'd be sitting on a rental car shuttle to Boston Logan, on the brink of tears, waiting for a real estate agent to call and say, "It's a deal," I wouldn't have believed you. If they'd said not only would I get that call, but that I'd have to shove my wife and kid onto the plane and pay hundreds of dollars to change my own flight so that I could stay behind to handle all of the paperwork and inspections and other related business, I'd have laughed in their face. And yet that's exactly what happened!
Tweets from that week, on my own:
  • Time to put on my big girl panties and take the T all by myself. It's a lovely, warm Spring day in JP!
  • Let this serve as fair warning, kiddos: Once your home inspection cherry has been popped, you'll never look at a house the same way again.
  • Such a beautiful day, en route to four more house showings.
  • I saw a house so beautiful and terrifying today that I couldn't think straight for like two hours.
  • My never-been-street-harassed-in-Boston streak was broken today and met with a very loud "Mind your manners, asshole," from yours truly.
  • I walked like four miles in a vintage dress in 70° F heat. It was nice.
Hey, at least the weather was nice!

WEEK THREE: HOME SWEET HOME (FOR NOW)

  • Terrifying thought of the day: 10 weeks until our lease is up.
  • This is what it looks like when you take notes at a home inspection when the house was built in 1869.
  • My new favorite group of people to hate furiously are cheap, neglectful, corner-cutting homeowners.
  • The first inspection report was 65 pages long. The second is 73 pages long. I'm not complaining, I'm just noting.
  • Quote of the day (courtesy of our agent): "It’s really a crapshoot as to which week will ultimately offer The Perfect Home. Roll them dice!"

So there you have it. I'm wearing a pair of Gap cords with a white DKNY blouse (and its sweet little Peter Pan collar). The black terry sweatshirt is from my beloved Everlane, and the shoes are vintage. The ring is from I have no idea where and the chain is Madewell. On my wrist are a variety of random gold bangles and my b/w Betsey Johnson cuff, as well as an IndieMart friendship bracelet and a vintage ring from Pretty Penny in Oakland.

The gorgeous purebred ragdoll's name is Rani Robinson-Mawhinney and you can follow her on Facebook, if you are so inclined, but I don't recommend it - she's kind of a snob.

This cuddly little guy's name is Teddy James (he's not little) and he's kind of my favorite. Obviously, if I'm posting a photo of the two of us and I don't have a lick of makeup on, it must be love. Just look at how happy we are together! YAY! Until next time, my friends! XOXO!