The time has finally arrived.
In seven days, my lovely wife and I are moving to the burgh of Woodbury. Ignoring the fact that I one time said I would rather get shot in the head than move to Woodbury, the whole process is very exciting from the outside looking in. Yes, despite the fact that my eventual children will have to grow up as “Royals.”
Here’s a short list of reasons why a house, specifically MY house, is going to kick ass, if only for myself.
NOISE CONCERN – How exciting is it to not have a common wall? All of my life, I’ve had someone upstairs to stomp on the floor when my music was too loud: My parents…girls on the floor above in the dorms…no-fun Nick…that fat bitch that lived upstairs in Minneapolis…that fat bitch that lives next door…Now? I can hook the subwoofer back up to my stereo. Now? It’s my wife upstairs, and I’m giving her the benefit of the doubt that she appreciates listening to hard rock at thunderous volume. Now? If my neighbors complain that I’m being too loud, I’m probably (nay, definitely) being too loud.
Just off the top of my head, here are the top ten songs that I will RAWK OUT at ample volumes within the first 100 hours of home-ownership:
10. March of the Pigs – Nine Inch Nails
9. Stranglehold – The Nuge
8. Sabotage – Beasties
7. Lady Gaga – Telephone
6. Natural Born Killer – AX7
5. Bow Down – Westside Connection
4. I Want Your Sex – George Michael
3. All of Master of Puppets
2. Welcome to the Jungle – GNR
1. Home Sweet Home – The Crue
Solid, right? I know.
FIXING SHIT – I’m also unnecessarily excited for the prospects of home improvements. The house needs to be painted, we know that. But I already have tentative plans to expand the deck (hot tubs take up room, you know), re-paver around the fire pit (even though I haven’t seen it without a foot of snow on it), install drain tile (even though I’m pretty sure I don’t need it), put up drywall in the garage, and find a way to make my basement rad enough to implement a cover charge.
A CUL-DE-SAC – I will enjoy living on a cul-de-sac because of the safety aspects associated with a lack of passing traffic. I also will enjoy it because “cul” is French for “ass.”
YARDWORK – This excitement should last what, like, two weeks? I haven’t mowed a lawn or shoveled a driveway since 1997. And there’s a shitload of trees in the backyard, so I’m sure I’ll get my fill of raking very quickly.
But with all of the driving I’ve done for work in the last ten years, I have seen so many yards around the Twin Cities where I just thought, “Wow, you really do a shitty, shitty job of upkeep. I would hate to know of your personal grooming habits. When I get one, my yard is going to embarrass your yard in so many ways.” Now I have that opportunity.
And I’m sure I won’t care about my yard by mid-July, either.
CASHING IN FAVORS – I’ve helped people move. I’ve carried heavy-ass fish tanks. I’ve sodded. I’ve installed garage door openers on 100-degree days. And that’s just shit that Brandon has made me do. Suffice it to say, on any given weekend, if there’s a project being done by Max, you can bet your ass somebody’s gonna be there helping me with it.
GRILL – At our soon-to-be formerly resided condo, and at my condo before that, there are communal grills (apparently, it’s against the bylaws to have an open fire on your patio). Well, this has always secretly grossed me out. I have no problem eating off of a grill that I know has been primarily used by me. But hundreds of people using it over the course of a summer? Yuck. That “free-for-all” grill is like a Kardashian – too much meat has bounced off of its racks to not be worried.
“MAN SPACE” (or “a garage and basement”) – As nice as it is to have every piece of sports equipment in the trunk of my car, I will like the option to put things like jumper cables and an emergency kit in there instead. It’s hard to jump a car with a pitching wedge. And I need somewhere to contain my ultra-manly new shop vac.
Furthermore, my shelf of all things Twins-related has been relegated to a hallway closet for the better portion of three years. And if there’s anything I know in this world, it’s that people NEED to know that I have an autographed Lew Ford baseball. That shit NEEDS to be on display.
Other things I’m looking forward to, in no particular order:
- Not getting locked out because of a self-locking security door.
- Not having to associate with that skinny c*nt of a woman who lives down the hall from us.
- Not having a communal garden hose outside of my bedroom window.
- Not having a parking lot outside of my bedroom window.
- A fire pit. And beer. And the marriage of the two on many a night.
- Building shit for the sake of building shit, and not worrying about where to store it.
- Not having to scrounge up quarters for two weeks in order to do laundry.
So, as you can tell, I’m stoked, top to bottom. I’m sure it won’t be all roses. I’m sure that by this time next year, we will have encountered multitudes of frustrations surrounding the house, most of which will occur in deck construction. Or I’ll hate one of my neighbor’s. Or shoveling will give me a Larry Johnson back.
But with any luck, it will have shed its label as “some house in a town that I never thought I’d be in” and become “The Date Home…”
“…with a $5 cover after 10 pm.”