- Share This Post
- Pin It
- 0
- 3
-
Sparkle (0)
I can’t believe two whole years has gone by since my good old blogging days as a Clueless Newlywed! I have to admit…I’m embarrassed that I’ve let this much time go by without a peep. And for that, I am truly sorry. It’s amazing how fast life passes you by if you let it.
But enough excuses. This is me…Nikki Flores…Telling you that I may not be a Clueless Newlywed anymore, but I still have a plethora of clueless adventures to share…
Let’s go back to where my life as a Clueless Newlywed really ended…Way back to the time my husband and I first decided to go house hunting in order to rid ourselves of the world’s worst neighbors.
I remember that we had looked at a ton of houses, but we were struggling to find a home that we BOTH liked. There were a lot of bungalows that were “move-in ready” that I liked, but my husband tended to like the houses that had more space, and needed what he called “a little love.”
I still remember the day my husband stumbled upon a foreclosed house that needed “a little bit of work” barely a mile away from our then-current duplex. Reluctantly, I agreed to look at the place, even though I swore up and down that I would NEVER buy a “fixer-upper.”
As we walked up the broken cement sidewalk, I remembered what all of my friends who had already gone through the first-time home owner’s experience had told me: “When you find the house, you will know it’s the one. You will know it the second you lay eyes on it.”
Well, let me tell you this…The first time I laid eyes on this house, a little voice in my head said “Oh hell no!”
“Wow! Look at that gorgeous door!” The hubby exclaimed.
Before I could say a word, I saw it in his eyes. He definitely had the “This is the house” feeling going on. No joke, his eyes were as wide as a little kid’s standing at the entrance of the Magic Kingdom for the first time. Immediately, he grabbed my hand and started pulling me up the broken sidewalk and crumbling porch steps…
Just so we’re clear, the so-called gorgeous door didn’t really fit the door frame correctly. So much so that I had to yank on the handle and give the door a firm kick before it would open. And the only way I could get it to shut was to turn the deadbolt. Nice, huh?
The next thing I remember after I manged to get the front door shut was my husband running to the right and saying: “Look how big and bright this living room is!”
Truth be told, I barely noticed the so-called bright room because my gaze immediately fell to the hardwood floors, and all I could see were tons of deep scratches and stains…
My husband must have noticed that I was trying to figure out what could have possibly damaged the floors so badly, because the next thing I knew, he had dragged me across the hall into the dining room and kitchen.
“Look!” He said, “A big dining room for the Sabbath and dinner guests…”
I stood in the middle of the room, my mouth agape. I started mumbling something about needing to carbon-date the blinds and chandelier, when he exclaimed: “And look at this HUGE kitchen…”
After I looked around the room, I remembered thinking: Yeah, it’s huge because the only appliance in here is that broken down stove.
Then, I gasped as I walked around and peered into the sink. Now I may not know much about kitchen sinks, but I do know the difference between a rustic sink and a rusty sink. And let me tell you…This one was definitely the latter:
And don’t even get me started on the plumbing…I mean, I know duct tape works in a pinch, but it’s not supposed to be an end-all-be-all solution to hold your pipes together:
My husband, sensing that I had seen enough, grabbed my hand and said something like: “Wait until you see the upstairs!”
I reluctantly allowed him to drag me up the staircase where I was greeted by six more doors. Three of which led to (tolerable) bedrooms, and
