Rolling Three Mortgages

The wife and I have spent the past month and a half looking for a house all over Denver and her surrounding suburbs. We have seen our share of some awful, filthy and disgusting properties. Any one who has ever shopped for real estate knows the market is rife with run-down hell holes, terrible design choices (such as flowered wallpaper and faux wood paneling), homes that haven’t been updated since the Kennedy administration and box elder bug infestations that would make the scene in Indiana Jones and The Temple of Doom look like amateur hour. This past weekend we finally walked into a house and felt like we were “home”. We made an offer on Wednesday and the offer was countered last night, being upped a few grand and the sellers agreeing to cover the closing costs (buyers market, yo). We gladly accepted because the house is the tits; 2500 square feet (3100 if you count the unfinished basement), updated dumpers, counter tops and lighting, over sized two car garage and air conditioning. Assuming the inspection goes well we move in on March 31. I intend to do a naked moonlight ass-walk on the deck off the master suite on night one. You know, to set the tone.

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  1. Right on, chico!

    You’re closer to us and (if I’m not mistaken) within stumbling distance of the mini-golf course with the propane volcano.

    Make sure we’re on the list for the house warming party.

  2. We are indeed within stumbling distance of the propane volcano mini-golf and the new Go Kart track!

    You are on the list for the housewarming shits.

    “Drive off the track $5, no refunds.”

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