House Hunting

Last night the man and I went to look at a couple of houses. We've never owned, for various reasons, but now we're getting ready to buy. And I think it's going to take us longer than we thought to find what we want. In fact I am shocked by how some people live. I'm all for slapping some paint on the wall or ripping up the odd carpet, but there are some homes out there that should be demoed. The first house we saw was nice. Ready to move in with all the appliances but maybe a little small. Number 2 was pretty average, a little older and in need of some minor tlc. Really it did nothing for me. But the last house was a freak show. From the outside it was a dream; 2 stories standing on a large corner lot with a wrap around porch and hidden garage. As we entered we were smacked with a wall of stale cigarette smoke, as rank as if the owners had puffed 2 packs a day since the house was built 20 years ago. And on top of that a mask of perfumes and sprays that did nothing but contribute to the stench. It was large. It had potential. But dear god it stank. Carpets would need to go. Walls would have to be re-boarded, taped and painted. Even the windows would need replacing as I'm sure they had some permanent nicotine damage. Kitchen and bathrooms all gutted. But who has the time for all this? Never mind. We went to have a look at the bedrooms. The master was a nightmare, again reeking of smoke and perfume. The once white ceiling now yellow and the wall paper fused with years of curly smoke. The wall paper in all of it's fuchsia and black floral glory. A den of masochistic hell complete with a torn leather bed and pad locked chains on the black lacquered bed side tables. Normally I might be curious as to what they contained. But today? Not so much. I was starting to feel sick. So why not head to the basement then and see what treasures awaited us there. All the lights were out and the tv on. Odd. The space was divided into to 3 equal and unfinished rectangles. The first contained the tv and some furniture fit for a fire. Beside the couch stood the most confusing display. 2 dried flowers, hideous and gigantic, propped by a thin and peeling brass stand. I'm almost at my limit for tolerance when we make our way into the far room. It is nearly bare with exception to an old dresser and a single bulb suspended from the centre of the ceiling. I try to make my way through the room and I am stopped in my tracks near the far end of it. Like a wall. As if something were in my way. I had to step back and leave. That's it. I'm freaked out and feeling nauseous. There was certainly something wrong with this place. Of course we decided to leave. We hadn't even been outside the house a minute when our Realtor pointed back toward the kitchen window. A male figure stood there, still and watching. We thought we had been alone. Where had he come from so quickly? Suddenly frightened we couldn't get the kids in the car fast enough. It was like being caught in the shark tank at sea world. "He's got ma legs, he's got ma legs!"

Needless to say we're still looking.