We hit the streets again with our Realtor looking for a few good houses. And we saw a few that we liked well enough, but weren't crazy about. However, there are some houses that just shouldn't have have been built. Period. Houses so bad that the people who built them should kill themselves in a painful, ritualistic, shameful way and their families should live in disgraced exile. We ran into 2 of those types of houses today.
The Drapes of Wrath
The first we figured ahead of time would have problems because the only 2 pictures of the house for the listing were of a lake and of the "front" of the house. We went anyway since we were in the area (looking at another listing that looked, and was, promising). When we pulled up, all you saw was a garage. No path leading to the "front" of the house. No doorways inviting you in. Just a single, aluminum garage door for 2 cars, painted white. Right next to that, was a pile of someone's trash. Our realtor said, "Oh, that's nice." I asked, "Does that convey with the property?"
Immediately, she says that this looks like a bad foreclosure and she can only imagine what it looks like inside. I was still curious (and we were already there), so we tromp through the weeds to the "front" of the house, which faces a lake. And when I say "faces", I really mean, "sits about 6 feet from". The picturesqe lake will beautifully invade your home during the next torrential downfall. For the life of me, I don't know who approved the original mortgage for the home or the ultimate construction plans for the home. Picture a construction worker, having laid down the mold that the foundation will eventually be poured into, asking his boss, "Are you sure we're supposed to be this close to the water?" "That's what the plans say. Fuck it."
So we open up the "front" door and peek inside. Our realtor joked, "I always let my clients enter first!" And as soon as I entered, "You're brave, I don't want fleas."" It's smelly and there's shit in boxes everywhere. There are stains on the carpet and it's clear from the outside that the inside layout is terrible. But the best part, the best part of all, is that, according to the listing, "the curtains do not convey". That's right. The ratty, rotten curtains that I wouldn't have bought when they were new will not convey with the house that sits a mere 6 feet from a lake threatening to swallow it whole. But maybe there's someone out there that has always dreamed of living in a $182,500 sand castle so long as the curtains convey!
The second house we really didn't like was just architecturally stupid and I say that with the upmost ignorance about the subjects of architecture and home-building. You walk into the house and you have to take a step up. Every room you go to from there, and you have 3 options in front of you, requires you to take another step down. Nothing else in the entire house is at that elevation. The architect just liked taking that aerobic step class at the gym.
Also, the architect must have clearly believed that pooping is evil because every toilet was hidden in a shameful space. In the master bath, the toilet is in a room smaller than my closet. I sat down on the seat, just to see, and my knees practically hit the door when I closed it. The bathroom closest to the other bedrooms is at the end of a U-shaped bathroom. You walk in the door, take a left, go past the bathtub, take another left, and you're there. I hope you don't have the runs because you'll never make it in time. The third bathroom is off the main hall in another, albeit larger, closet (because it had to fit a sink in there too). So, in order to get into that bathroom, which is the nicest, you have to step down into it because you and the doorway are 6-inches off the fucking floor. I guess that makes it easier to stare at people's feet through the crack in the door. ::shrug::
The architect also doesn't understand geometric shapes, although, to his credit, he tried (A for effort buddy. Someday you'll make it past the 9th grade.). When you walk into the master bathroom, you have almost-symmetry. On the left, there's a closet and on the right a closet. On the left and sink and on the right a sink. The bathtub juts out in the middle by about a foot or two. However, the toilet is in a closet off to the left. The room the toilet-closet takes plus the amount the tub juts out make it impossible to walk a straight line from the door to the left sink. Unless you're a mouse, in which case, why do you need a sink? Go back into the kitchen you dumb-ass mouse.