So, the cat's out of the bag. The Feher's are getting a new address! Lucky for me, this without-a-doubt, highly expected shit show will provide quite the material for this here blog. Let's be real, it already has.
The beginning of this saga started out relatively normal. You know, they researched properties, obtained a realtor, went to some open houses and put in an offer. But that didn't last long.
First of all, the Feher's new neighbors, who C just happens to already know, caught us creeping around the complex at midnight. As we headed over to check out the new place, C was worried about being discovered. Lo and behold, as we're standing like a bunch of idiots outside the new front door, said neighbors come walking up. So much for a good first impression. At least C and I previously warned M that, under no circumstances, was he allowed to look in the windows of the house, which still had tenants. Thankfully, he complied, because bailing him out jail for being a peeping tom wasn't how we wanted to spend the wee hours of the morning.
Next, there was a home inspection. Which ended up just being weird and pretty dramatic. The Inspector basically told the Fehers that they had death mold sprouting up under the house and that the foundation was being held up by a couple of rusty jacks. He then proceeds to tell M to come take a look. But of course, M had to go home first to change out of his fancy work clothes. Leave it to M to come back wearing his whack basketball high-tops and spiderman board shorts. Then, as M climbs into the crawl space, the Inspector warns him that he could get Lou Gehrig's disease from the mold. Say what? Yeah, your making everyone feel pretty great right about now, Mr. Inspector. The house, apparently, is about to fall down and kill everyone, but, don't worry, cause M is going to die anyways.
What happens next is standard Feher.
M just stands there in his Nikes, looking like he's about to burst into tears and, C, after staying awake night after night, furiously copying their entire financial history and reading escrow papers, just gets mean and runs her mouth, spouting off all sorts of garbage. Meanwhile, M's parents, who came along for support and were only trying to be helpful, were being ignored by the hot mess that is M and C.
The icing on the cake? In the midst of this breakdown, a teenage girl wearing a cheerleading outfit and high pony tail comes bouncing out of the house, past everyone in the garage and down the street. The current tenants don't have children, so we still don't know who that person is....
Don't worry, dear readers, M and C brought in an engineer for a second opinion, who labeled the inspector a quack and settled everyone's fears. The house was good to go!
As of late, C, in her new home owner elitism, has been walking around grumbling about how small her apartment is and going on and on about what a dump the complex is. Talk about biting the hand that feeds you. All the sudden, she's too good for a measly two bedrooms. Trust me, she was perfectly content 4 months ago. And M, thinks he's turned into some master home decorator. His brilliant idea is to paint all three bedrooms yellow, orange and red, respectively. What is this, McDonalds? Furthermore, he has decided that he is not allowing the use of the color black anywhere in the home and thinks that it would be so much better to cover up his (real) hard wood floors with carpet.
Moving day is now only about a month away for Ebenezer Scrooge and Martha Stewart. Who wants to take bets on how that will turn out??
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