Buy My House!

Two years ago, we bought this house with the lint from our pockets and a Bettie Page lunch box stuffed with Sweaty Page's strip club earnings. At the time, the house was a sturdy-but-unloved rambler, painted a flat Gulf green and situated on land that graded sharply toward the house, as if encouraging water to phase through the walls and hasten the rot that was already underway in the unfinished catacombs beneath. The yard had been neglected but for the most perfunctory mow-n'-clip. No one lived in the actual house; it was owned as an investment property by a distant realtor. Before that, it had been occupied by a lawless, unparented group of Hmong teens, who'd left telltale graffiti on some exposed foam insulation.

Sure, there was a new roof. And the kitchen had recently been rehabbed, complete with virgin appliances that wink-winked "We're new here! Why not bake some snickerdoodles?" The upstairs bathroom was as inoffensive as they come in '60s houses. The hardwood floor still shone like a syrup spill and--look! A laundry chute! Jonny and I quickly became infatuated with the house. We were deaf to our buyer's agent's sensible protests ("You're gonna have to gut that basement!"). We would love the house. And love it we did.

Jonny painted the siding white and replaced the peel-n'-stick house numbers with a swank embossed plaque. He regraded the land and adjusted the gutters so rainwater would travel away from the house. He manicured the bushes, resodded, then tore up half the yard, replacing it with a woodland-inspired fantasia of mulch and blossoms and hostas. He dug a friggin' fountain which has bubbled merrily in the the shade of our favorite tree ever since. The front yard looked so pimp that we decided we needed a patio in the back. We enlisted a posse of laughably stereotypical hunks to do the job. They brought a jam box and grooved, their oiled biceps pulsing as they poured the concrete.

Of course, our rusting, wheezing hulk of an air conditioner didn't really complement the patio. So we sucked it up and brought a brand new A/C unit. Are you paying attention, prospective buyer? To simplify things, I'll just add a "ding!" when I want to highlight Value We Added to the Home.

Inside, I painted each room a lush fashion hue. I insisted we rip out the cheap carpeting in my office and replace it with glossy wood laminate (ding!) Things were starting to look downright slick.

So then there was the basement. We'd already bought a new washer and dryer (ding!), but the lower level was still far from an optimum hangout spot. So we hired this dude to singlehandedly tear the place asunder and rebuild the entire basement. He added a fourth bedroom (ding!) and a really nice bathroom, complete with an extra-large showerhead that cost me like $90 (ding!) and a mosiac stone border in lieu of baseboards (DING! DING! I'M AN IDIOT SPENDTHRIFT! DING!) The laundry area was walled off into its own spacious room and floored with checkerboard linoleum (standard ding!)

The act of love was complete. And then we found another house. I don't know if we're going to get the new house for sure (banks don't really like freelance writers) but it's one crispy pube away from being a done deal.

So now, we have to sell this one. It goes on the market Thursday, so watch yr listings and try to find us. This is a one-story brick and siding house, small but sweet, four bedrooms (three up, one below) two bathrooms, modern kitchen. Plus you get to live in Robbinsdale, home of Whiz Bang Days, Thistles and Broadway-fuckin'-Pizza. Plus, two bars within walking distance, a gun range, and the Robbinsdale Pirates! All this, a mere twelve minutes from downtown Minneapolis.

"Well, if Robbinsdale is so great, why are you moving?"

We ain't! Our new house is in Robbinsdale too. We're not deserters. We just needed more room. As a family, we leave a considerable footprint.

So, anyway. Check it out-- this is a house that's been coddled within an inch of it's life, and I'd love to see it go to one or several cool homeowners who could appreciate it just as much.