I have very strong feelings regarding the rent house in which Yvan and I currently reside...none of which are of the sunshine variety...and all for very good reasons. There are a multitude of nicknames for said house including "The Little Shack of Horrors, Craphole, The Roach Nest, Piecer," and my personal favorite, "Chateau Sh**."
We rented this house as a last resort. I swear, it was literally THE LAST HOUSE for rent any where in an area that would keep both of us near work. Add in the fact that Yvan and I have very different ideas of what is considered suitable living space and we had our work cut out for us. You see, I don't need a yard and have no problems with neighbors. I can handle an apartment, condo, or house with neighbors. Yvan has never lived in a neighborhood, much less an apartment. He grew up in France, in a small village, in a home built into the side of a mountain that overlooks said village. I'm sorry babe, but we don't have that here in Rockwall. Since moving to the US, he has lived on acreage. Again, lucky him. So you can imagine the difficulties we had trying to find something that would work for both of us. Since he refused to live in an apartment, we were forced to go house hunting. The only thing we did agree on was not wanting to pay someone else's mortgage to live in their home. The cost of renting is ridiculous in Rockwall. Seriously, 1100sf, 2bed/2bath, no yard = $1800. Umm, no. Its not even the amount of money, its the fact that I am paying your mortgage and getting nothing in return. I finally gave up and left the searching up to Yvan. I was tired and way past done. Maybe I should have pushed a little more. Here are Yvan's Top 3.
3. Ranch house in Terrell. This actually would have been a pretty good deal if it was a little closer. It was right smack in the middle of a large (I mean huge) ranch. But, when even Yvan says it might take a while to get to work (like, 10 minutes to even get off the property) its a problem. I have varsity practice at 7am. The earlier I have to get up the worse it gets for anyone that has to deal with me that day. So that is a pass.
2. Ranch Style home in McLendon Chisholm. Ummm, I started crying when we walked in. The house was a disaster. The back door wouldn't open and the downstairs bedroom was painted pepto pink and covered with tinkerbell icons. The owners were willing to let us repaint at our own cost. Seriously? Upstairs wasn't any better. There was no carpet in the closet, but there was carpet nails. Again, the owners weren't willing to repair it, but we could at our own cost. SERIOUSLY? There are nails sticking up out of the floor. And then there was the back yard and full array of broken, busted little kid toys everywhere. Again, we could clean it up, but they weren't going to. I very rarely give up a fight, but I must have completely shut down mentally, because Yvan made all the arrangements to meet and sign papers. Luckily, his mother convinced him that he was being ridiculous. Any landlord that wouldn't fix problems like that before we move in, certainly wasn't going to willing to fix things later. And, hadn't he just rented out his cabin in Huntsville? How much time and money did he invest to make sure it was a nice space for his renters? Yvan finally came to his senses and told me we weren't going to live there. I cried again. This time they were tears of joy and relief rather than agony and total defeat. The latter would come again later.
3. The last resort. Yvan calls me and says he found a place. Yvan: "Can you come by and look at it tomorrow?" Me: "Uh, sure. Where is it?" Yvan: "About two miles from my school." Me: (to myself) "Of course it is," (to Yvan) "That's awesome!" The next day I swing by and meet Yvan at the house. There are workers present and going to town. And I'm thinking to myself, that's already a good sign. At least they are willing to fix things. We take a little tour and though it is very dated, it has two big bedrooms and two full baths. The kitchen isn't too bad. As we walk into the living room I start feeling a little drunk. As I'm trying to figure out what's going on, Yvan goes, "yeah, the room slants a little bit." No kidding. Without carpet, you could race matchbox cars down the living room. We briefly talk to the contractor about what work is being done and he states the basics, paint, new carpet, etc. I ask Yvan about the price and he says they want $475/mo. Excuse me? $475? That's it? I should have known. Good gracious, I should have known. But, we were both at our breaking point. So, I told him fine. Let's do it.
Worst. Decision. Ever.
As we would soon discover.
Stay tuned for how I, Prissy Krissy, became immune to all things creepy crawly.
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