last Thursday i woke up at 11:43am.
the PSE, Monster and i had a big day on the schedule.
i ate a little breakfast, pooped, brushed my teeth, got dressed and was out the door by 12:40.
the PSE came with me because she had a big day, too.
the Monster came with us because she is crazy and can't be left home alone.

our first stop was over to a condo that the PSE found in one of her many trolls through Zillow.
she found it while we were back in New Jersey and got all excited about it and had me call the Realtor to make an appointment to check it out.
of course, it doesn't make a lick of sense for the PSE and i to be looking at buying a condo together if we are going to be splitting up because i want to have children and she does not [see Friday's post] but, i figure that's a crisis we'll have to negotiate if and when we come to it.
right now, we're just looking.

the condo that caught the PSE's eye was a one bedroom, one-and-a-half bath loft on the market for $45,000.
well hell, we can afford that!
at that price, we could even have money left over to furnish it.
i am not super stoked on living in a condo, a condo is basically all the responsibility of owning a house with none of the pride of ownership.
if i'm gonna own something, i want to be able to paint swear words on the side of it without somebody having something to say about it.
but since you can't buy a proper house for $45,000, and because the PSE and i are So Goddamned Motherfucking Sick Of Having To Pay Rent, okay, we'll go check it out.

we got to the address of the condo and found basically a hive of cheep, shitty apartments.
everything was run down and all the neighbors were ghetto.
we parked our car in somebody's reserved space and went to go find the unit for sale, #317.
after several minutes of looking at identical doorways we found the place and met a real estate agent standing right outside.
i assumed he was the agent for the seller but it turned out that he was our Realtor.
i didn't know we'd ordered one but there he was, ready willing and able to work for us.
the kid couldn't have been any older then twenty-five, with a rash of acne across his cheeks and a frat boy character about him that made him unlikable as much as he tried.
we shook hands, then the Frat Boiy Realtor resumed the dance he was doing with the front door, opening it and closing it and shouting “hello!?! hello!?! hello!?!”
apparently the condo unit was still occupied.
the Frat Boy Realtor had a key, but there was a giant barking Pit Bull locked up in a cage in the corner of the living room and who knows who else might be in there that we didn't want to catch by surprise.
brave, i walked into the condo and scoped the place out looking for inhabitants or squatters or whoever before i came back to let the PSE and the Frat Boy Realtor pussy know that it was safe to come on in.
the place was a shithole. there were cloths and old plates of food all over the place.
the giant Pit Bull having a barking fit in his cage the entire time didn't do a thing for the ambiance, either.
still, despite the overwhelming stink of poverty that hovered over the place, the PSE and i saw some positive features.
there was a good amount of square footage, okay natural lighting and a closet big enough for me to make an office out of
the Frat Boy Realtor wouldn't shut the fuck up about the floors and paint being in great condition.
the PSE and i didn't linger too long in the condo to really give it a proper inspection.
the barking Pit Bull was driving me nuts and i wanted to get the hell out of there before somebody came home and shot us.

the PSE expressed an interest in the place.
as ghetto and grimy as it is, owning your own shithole is better then renting a shithole so, okay, Frat Boy Realtor, what's the next step?
i told the kid to send me over all the paperwork he had on the unit for me to read through, which is the first step in a long series of steps.
next would be to make an offer, pay some money to a title company, have an inspection, then hand over a heap of cash.
we'll worry about all that after we read over what-all there is to read over, first.
the PSE and i shook hands with the Frat Boy Realtor and told him we were going to stroll around the grounds on our own for a bit.
we went into the condo's management office and found a place littered with more cloths and dirty dishes.
like the Home Owner's Association requires all owners and occupants to be filthy fucking slobs.
this one also smelled like cigarettes and the PSE and i didn't know if we'd accidentally stumbled into some gross lady's apartment by accident.
but, no, it was the management office, somehow.
an obese trashy woman sat down to entertain our questions.
she was either friendly and helpful and informative or she was trying to scare us off.
either way, we walked out of the place with a 'hard no' on purchasing the condo that we had previously been leaning 'yes' towards.

the problem with the condo is that it is a part of a Homeowner's Associations and Homeowner's Associations have never been anything but trouble for everybody involved.
i don't know who benefits from a Homeowner's Association, i don't know what the scam is, but i know it is not the home owners.
Homeowner's Associations exist to take money from people and tell them what they can and cannot do in return.
Homeowner's Associations are for people who don't have enough rules and penalties in their lives.
the PSE and i knew that there was a Home Owner's Association attached to this condo but the Fratboy Realtor said that “they weren't bad...” and told us that fees would be $120 per month.
we could handle that, i guess.
but the big fat cigarette-smoking lady scoffed at that number and told us it wouldn't be any less then $250.
she called up to her bosses to check and they told her it would be $280 a month.
and if that didn't sink the boat for us, later in the conversation the apartment manager lady told us that the Home Owner's Association maintains the right to appropriate more funds as needed for whatever projects they set their sights on and that they do that fairly often.
the last time the Homeowner's Association appropriate special funds they raised the fees on the Manager's three-bedroom unit from the regular rate of $350 up to $675 per month for six full months so that they could glue on some wood paneling on the side of some of the buildings.
if residents don't pay the additional appropriated fees, the Homeowner's Association can foreclose on their property extra-judicially, without an order from any civil court.
the PSE and i thanked the lady and got the fuck out of there as soon as possible.
later that day when the Fratboy Realtor called to “check in” on us, we told him thanks but no thanks on this goddamned scam somebody is running.
we'd rather continue living in our apartment.
we would rather live in our Volvos then in this goddamned money trap.

-

when we left the make-believe world where TITS and the PSE could ever be home owners the PSE, the Monster and i drove over to our Relationship Counselor's office for our scheduled appointment.
well, first we drove to Office Depot to buy printer inks, then a grocery store to have them make us sandwiches, then the Counselor's office for our 3:00pm appointment.
this would be our very last session with the guy, ever because that's the way Obamacare worked out this year.
[see yesterday's post]
i would have preferred to get an Obamacare insurance that would continue to pay for our Counselor but there were only two different insurance companies on the Healthcare Dot Gov exchange, AmBetter Health and Blue Cross Blue Shield, and AmBetter, the one we went with, is a closed-network that he is not a part of it.
Blue Cross Blue Shield would have paid for the Counselor [but not our G.P. who we also like] but the difference in monthly premiums between Blue Cross Blue Shield and AmBetter was $240 versus $13.
sorry, Counselor. you're a nice guy and all and i think you might actually be some good for our relationship but i'm not gonna pay over $200 a month just to continue to sit on your couch three times a month.
AmBetter Health may or may not have their own couple's counselor in their closed system, but having to go through the pain-in-the-ass of explaining our problems all over again doesn't seem worth it.
that means either the PSE and i are going to have to learn to deal with our own problems, though, historically, over the twelve-plus years we've been together, we haven't had all that much luck going that route.
the other option is for the Counselor to solve our problems for us, permanently, right then and there.
i told him that and he laughed but, no, motherfucker, i'm not joking. let's go to work!

not surprisingly, fifty minutes later and the PSE and i were still a fucking mess.
of all the degrees the Counselor has up on his wall, not a one of them was for convincing reluctant girls to just go ahead, stop worrying about shit and have children with their boyfriends when they do not want to.
for that, i would need some kind of a rapist or maybe a cult but i do not want to go that route.
since the PSE's insistence on not having a family with me the great big specter that has been throttling our relationship for years and years now, there wasn't really all that much that the Relationship Counselor could do so we just sat on the couch saying some version of “yeah, this sucks...” to each other for fifty minutes until our time was up and we said our goodbyes.
and that's the end of the Relationship Counselor.
as much as the PSE and i think therapy is a bunch of silly masturbation, i think the Relationship Counselor was good for us.
he didn't solve our problems, which is what he was getting paid for, but i think he made it slightly easier for us to talk to each other, and that is always a good thing.
we're gonna miss you, Jim, you soft-spoken weirdo.

//[onward ho!]
.

July 2017

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