This actually happened 2 and a half months ago. I know my friends on Facebook have read this, but I just had to share it with all my blogger friends. Here it is.
Saturday we go get the moving truck. Then low and behold it is off to the storage unit. Woo-Hoo. We get to the unit and I am told my job is to sit in the car and read. Gosh, I hate that job. My hubby, my youngest son, and my son-in-law, get out, open the storage unit and make a face. Then they start taking things out of the unit and putting it in front so hubby can start the process of "bring me this". But, you ask. Why did they make a face. Well, apparently, the mice had decided to spend the last few weeks in our little storage unit. And they each decided to invite a friend, and so on, and so on. There is mouse droppings everywhere. There is stink of mouse. All of the sudden I see boys running after something. Hubby has a stick. I hear "get the sucker", "little bastard" stuff like that. Of course, I'm hiding my eyes because I hate mice. They continue to put some things in a "it's going to be thrown out pile" and other things go on the truck. S-I-L goes into the unit to get another box. He looks and lo and behold, 4 more mice. The other 2 go in there and I hear a battle. I hear "get him", "you can do it", "laughing". Then S-I-L comes running out of the unit, chasing the little bugger clear around my car, and steps on it. Much high five-ing insues. They finish loading the truck, and hubby says as they are getting the last of the stuff by the dead mouse, "don't step on that" and S-I-L, being the humourous sort that he is, says, "I already did". ha. We park the moving truck and hubby's van in front of my parents house, as this is the safest place to do so.
The next morning, hubby and I both were up by 4 AM. We got ready, stopped at the store, and headed to our new house. Well, let me preface this that the previous owners were supposed to be done by Saturday night. Did you see that word "supposed". We get to the house, and there is still some stuff in the house. Holy Bejoly. I was pissed. Oh, and did I mention that they also left a pickup truck in the garage. Much swearing insues from my mouth. (this is not my kichen but is how much junk was still in the house) We start moving the stuff that they had left in the house, into the garage.
The boys all get here, along with middle son, and they start bringing stuff out of the truck. Now, because of the fine party in the storage unit, all things in it will not be coming into the house until hubby has a chance to clean them. Yes, one lovely piece at a time. So they are sitting in our garage. And who decides to show up, FINALLY. The previous owners. They want to know what in the hell we are doing here.
Sidebar: we had already been forwarned by our realtor that the previous owners were pissed that we got the house for such a good price. this house has been a long process. It was a short sale, and if you know anything about the housing market, being in a short sale has nothing to do with how long it takes to get it. we put our offer in on August 10, 2009, and December 31, 2009 the bank finally accepted our offer.
OK, on with the story. At NOON, when the previous owners from hell decide to show up, they are bent. Hubby says, we were told by our realtor that you would be out of here by saturday night. Mr previous owner tries to tell us that we can't move in till after it funds. Hubby, who was a realtor for 11 years, says, there is a difference between, "CLOSING" which we put on our purchase contract and they accepted, and "RECORDING" AND "FUNDING". That is the process. Mrs bitch from hell, ooops, I mean, Mrs. Previous Owner, is pissed as hell because supposedly someone spilled something on her material. Well, lady, first of all, no we didn't and second of all, THEN GET YOUR DAMN STUFF OUT OF THE HOUSE BY SATURDAY NIGHT. breathing, breathing.
Sidebar: Good thing I'm not outside while she is complaining or you might have seen me on the news.
Mr. Previous Owner then tells hubby, "well then, I want a note from you saying that as of this date you are responsible for anything that goes wrong with the house". Hubby is like, ok. Comes in, writes it out. We are all standing around eating pizza and talking. One of the boys, I'm not sure which one, says, before you give him the note, lets all run outside with our hands in the air shouting FIRE. We all start laughing hysterically. Hubby goes to the garage door to go out to give him the note, and he is standing right at the door. Yes, you read that right, right at the door. Was he listening to us? How long was he standing there? He was probably just jealous that we were all in there laughing and he was outside with the bitch from hell. Oh, and hubby and the boys helped them load up their stuff into their truck, because they were too busy bitching and moaning to load. Yes we wanted them out of here.
Hope to do that again real soon. NOT