You Know it's Bad When the Coffin is Least Alarming of All.

So. We're looking for a house. No, we're looking for a home. Doesn't that sound warm and fuzzy? We want out of the big city of (affluent homes, liberal protests, and joggers like plagues of locusts) Minneapolis. We want to live south of the (Minnesota) river again where I can smoke weed without worring about getting my neighbor's kids high. Through their bedroom window. THAT IS TWO INCHES FROM MY ROOM. Not that I smoke weed anymore. Not since the inception of bacon vodka. Weed just seems superfluous now.

We are learning the slow way that each and every single-family, detatched home in a three-county area that is for sale in our price range is either full of mold or in short sale (read: your purchase agreement is telegraphed to Mars and the bank's response is sent via impossible mathematical equation, if at all). Either way, we're staying put for the moment. We don't qualify for either the New Homebuyer's tax credit or The Jefferson's tax credit, so we're in no hurry to close before June first.

The compromise Gray and I made was that we would put an offer on the house that I love while continuing to look for houses Gray loves, although technically Gray does love this house. It's just that he's afraid of the mountain of shit out back. I don't blame him. Because...ew. I was a little afraid of taking on a property with a septic system and a water well, but then I remembered that the best way to battle fear is with knowledge, so I researched like crazy and determined I was comfortable with the prospect, especially since our property's septic tank is less than two years old and our offer is subject to a thorough inspection of the house, the well/pump system, and the septic system.

Gray decided that if he had to do actual work to battle his fear that he'd really rather just stay afraid.

Plus, he said, they're ugly. Touche.

Unfortunately, we've looked at many of the properties that are options for us, so it's hard to "continue to look" for houses when they don't exist, except really they DO exist, they just aren't for sale yet, or maybe they won't be for sale at all, but we're kind of counting on someone moving sometime in the future, and hopefully when they do, they won't do stuff like pour cement down the drains or leave the water running in the kitchen sink. That's how mold happens, ya'll, and I've seen it destroy too many good homes to count. Well, I guess it was just those two.

In the meantime, we are getting a crash-course in real estate, mostly about Red Flags. Red Flags are everywhere when you're house hunting, and it's important that you pay attention to those red flags so that you don't end up living sandwiched between the guy with the back yard junk yard and the lady with the scary dog. Or in the house with one bathroom and no shower, just a surround-less tub. And carpet below the tub. And did I mention no shower?

Here are a few of the Red Flags we've encountered. Watch and learn.

THE TECHNICOLOR KITCHEN

THE PSYCHEDELIC GARAGE DOOR

CHILD-SMUGGLING RINGS

CHRISTMAS IN APRIL

STORAGE ISSUES

LITTER BOX NEXT TO THE STOVE

ASIANS

DOORWAYS TO NOWHERE

PLETHORA OF SANITATION METHODS

TOO UGLY TO SHOW YOU

DEAD BODIES IN COFFINS

FIREPLACES YOUR CHILDREN CAN CLIMB

AND THIS HAS NOTHING TO DO WITH HOUSES, BUT WHAT THE FUCK IS A "LITTLE GIANT BLUEBERRY"?

It sounds suspicious.