BOS to MKE

Yesterday was a blur.  I had less than 12 hours to fly from Boston to Milwaukee and back again.  Put a 3 hour house inspection in my layover and well, there you have it.  The flight there was uneventful...unless you count me spilling my Starbucks all over the German woman next to me during take-off.  At least I didn't get her computer.  We were below 10,000 feet.  I think that's the only reason my clumsiness got off the hook from killing a thousand dollar corporate device.  

Once our plane landed, our great realtor met me at the airport.  It was his birthday.  The least I could do was treat him to a chai latte before we went to the house.  The other realtor was there with the house owners and their 2 beagles.  It was a little awkward going through the bones of the house with them present.  I would imagine it would be like visiting a plastic surgeon with your fitness trainer.  "See, this is where you failed in taking care of your sanctuary."  Yeah, not uncomfortable at all.  

I tried to channel my husband through the whole experience.  I'm the more visual person, but he is Mr. Detail guy.  What would he be asking that I am missing?  I learned more about step cracks, air leaks in insulation to prevent ice dams in roofs, and voltage/watt things than I ever thought was possible.  I had to reflect back on my previous experience with house inspectors...ok, my only experience with house inspectors.  5 years ago.  I realized if it weren't for the creepy crawl spaces, potential of spiders and bugs, and fear of falling off of steep roofs, I would make a really good house inspector.  I underestimated my orientation for detail.  I realized I would flag a lot more things than what this guy did.  

"Is this a concern?"  I'd ask pointing to something.  The inspector would take off his baseball cap and make a face with an noncommittal grunt and shrug.  Ooohkay....

Our real estate agent spent years in new home construction so he would often point out easy fixes for things to increase energy efficiency.  That was helpful.  I also learned there are differences in State to State code.  For example:  those grounded outlet plugs in bathrooms or kitchens near water are not a mandatory fix in older Wisconsin homes.  Its mearly a suggestion.  Preventing electrical shock is a "suggestion?"  Wow.  

While we were finishing up the inspection, the other realtor decided she would leave.  She was one of those with her blue tooth attached to her highly frosted puffy hair and clip on pearl earrings.  You know, the kind that has some sort of gimmicky line like, "Casadella Land, a moving experience."  Seriously.  It was at that point our agent shared our financing option of going with a FHA loan.  Apparently bank assessors are ruthless with this type of loan.  No peeling paint, no cracked glass, no nothing.  Sounds like a really good idea for us.  We get a home guaranteed in good condition.  It's more work for the sellers who then have to get the extra work done if they want the deal to go through, otherwise everything falls flat.  It's a risk.  To put it mildly, the seller's agent was not thrilled with this.  She cited the original offer with conventional financing.  Yes, but as our mortgage lender said, the seller doesn't care where the money comes from.   Now our agent is trying to smooth the waters.  Deep Breaths.  

After 3 hours of house education to prep future visits to Home Depot, our agent dodged the Miller Park ball day traffic to whisk me back to the airport.  Fantastic.  Weather delayed the return flight for over an hour.  At least I had time to grab lunch...and stew about how long Edgar would be left alone.  I envisioned him crossing his legs and hopping around the house doing the I-need-to-pee dance.  

Once we boarded I had an odd argument with the guy in my seat.  

"I'm in 13 A."

"Yes, I'm in 13 B."  I said pointing to the aisle seat.

"Riiight.  A stands for Aisle."  He said shoving his backpack under the seat.

"Um, no A is next to the window." I said pointing to the diagram.  He looked up and recognized the faux pas.  

The rest of the flight was a struggle over the armrest.  Good times.

When I arrived J was late...to my plane that was over an hour late.  Quickly my anxiety shifted from the messes around the house to carnage on the highway involving twisted metal and an ambulance carrying my husband off to the hospital.  I began to call his cell phone every 1-3 minutes.  Sure enough he pulled in and was not in a good mood.  Call it the lack of a promised half academic day off, the traffic, the rain, or simply that it was Thursday.  "I need to you stuff your stress," was his direction.  Somehow his arrival and assertion calmed my anxiety.  

By the time we arrived, Edgar was thrilled to see us and sure enough he spent a loooong time outside looking extremely grateful for our reunion.