Uh, Pay No Attention to The Obvious Omen

In a totally warped celebration, Leah and I threw some of our belongings into boxes and merrily hauled them to our Philly garage. Then she jumped online and started looking at paint colors, searching for a nice shade of green.

In a little more than a month we will be out of this place because we bought a house.

The house now occupied by the decapitated Saint.

A few days ago, I wrote about the offer we made on a twin home that is in desperate need of some updating. The owners countered our bid. We countered back. They flat out rejected us. I blamed the religious doll with its head busted off displayed on the bedroom dresser. We mourned and then moved on.

But two days later, the owners called back and said they would accept our offer. Being the totally stubborn bastards that we are, our first inclination was to shove it in their faces and say hell no. About a minute later, we were pretty excited.

The only thing standing in the way of us buying this house is the inspections, which will take place later this week. That gives the decapitated Saint one more chance to strike.
The walls could be covered in mold, the floors could be infested with termites, the ceiling could resemble a colander.

If any of this happens, I’m blaming the Saint.

Or it could be like every other house. It can have its minor problems, but be in pretty good shape.

Keep your fingers crossed for us.