The moment I told Mark that we had an offer on the house, he started looking at houses in Chicago. Never mind that twice before the deals have gone sour, Mark has gone shopping. Unfortunately, Mark and I have different views on what a budget is, and what kind of house we'll be moving into. I am easy to please. Twice I've bought derelict properties and I was happy with them. This house for example was inhabited by hard core drug users, and when I started sprucing up the yard I found a couple of heroin kits buried out there. No problem, twenty three years and a lot of hard work did wonders for this place. Mark does not think he can handle a "fixer upper". He keeps showing me homes at least a hundred thousand dollars over what I want to pay.
"But look at that kitchen. Oh... and the bathrooms are to die for."
"No, the mortgage is to die for, mainly I'm the one dying."
And with that I get a pout and a whimper about his not wanting to move. Too bad, the contract is signed. So every day I get another potential home sent to my mail box by Mark. Last night he sent this one.
He thought he was sending it as a joke. Yes, it is hideous. Yes, it is on the Southside of Chicago. But.. it is within my budget. I could live with the weird atrium in the middle of the living room, and the phony "Mediterranean" style architecture. So the joke may be on Mark, because the best part about this house is that it is only one block away from President Obama's Chicago home. I could see me and Michelle bumping into each other as we walk our dogs around the neighborhood.