OH GOD, RESPONSIBILITY

Holy crap, owning a house is horrible. Everyone tells you how it's an investment and how you build equity and how important it is. Oh, but sometimes I wonder if it's really that important. Is equity so necessary if I made it through 14 years of adulthood, 10 years of being a pet owner, 9 years of marriage, 6 years of being a parent, and God only knows what else, without it?

I'm sure it is very important. Afterall, Jesus told us in the sermon on the mount,

"Blessed are the Home Owners, for they shall own a home, and it shall be homey, and safe, and like heaven but intrinsicly different and worse, but still not too shabby for earth. And he shall gain equity and that equity can be used to garner himself a credit card. And that credit card is as good as cash, baby."

But they just don't tell you everything when you purchase a home. They leave shit out. They leave so much shit out. They say, "Here is your mortgage rate," and you think, 'wow, I can totally afford to own a home. Before long I'll be vacationing in the French riviera.' But then you find out about taxes. And let us not forget about insurance. Afterall, you don't want to lose all your stuff to a fire. But you also need liability in case your house bites somebody. Oh, and did we forget to mention that YOU are now responsible for that swollen ceptic tank? What about that 3/4 acre lot. It needs mowing or the home owners association will fine you. And you have to pay a small fee to be in the home owners association, so that they have the right to fine you. That will just be $100.00/year. And what's that? Is that the sound of a roach family scurrying between your walls? Well you don't want poisons lying around because you have a 3 year old. You need to get a contract with a Pest Control service. That will cost you too. And did we mention that your house is haunted? Yeah, it is. You will need to spend $50K to have it excorcized, or sell the soul of one of your children to free the house.

AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhh!

breathe

Last Friday I got to work and found a bug in my sock. GROSS! I know that it came from my house, because, afterall, that's where I typically engage foot to sock for the day. But then the office receptionist, a frequent poster (note to all slackers: if you post frequently I may say good/bad things about you), said, "I bet you have Chaggas and you're gonna die. I'm gonna watch."

Well, it turns out I probably don't have Chaggas, but I do have the terribly-grossed-outs. So I went home and began to disinfect the house. What I realized in doing it is that the last owner did not know how to clean. If she did then she didn't feel it was necessary. The only other option is that she was part pig and so she cleaned her house with shit. Because I was relatively disgusted at some of the brown stains I was cleaning off of the blinds. THE BLINDS! Not the insides of the toilet seats, the flippin' blinds.

Holy Crap! the last owner of my house was Nurgle, god of all things nasty and plaguey.

People, go home and clean your house! It's what separates us from Typhus. And no, that's not a rapper.