july 2021
From the first of July onward our lives got a little easier day bidet. By easier, I guess I mean less intense. We made it to a nice hotel outside of Toledo, Ohio with an indoor pool. We were able to rest our aching bones, catch up on the Real Housewives of Beverly Hills and ponder why Denise Richards received an onslaught of suspicion, derision and torment for possibly having a threesome, and yet Erika Jayne is "a good person" who also just happens to probably be complicit in stealing millions from widows, orphans and burn victims. Such are the questions that keep you up at night when your brain-melt of choice is the Real Housewives of Beverly Hills. We swam in the indoor pool, much to the chagrin of the 9 year old girls who whispered and giggled at us from the other side of the pool. I just went through hell and I was not about to let those little girls bully me out of the pool. They left because it was probably their bed time and Diego and I got to swim around and enjoy a whole 30 minutes of uninterrupted family fun.
On Friday we were back on the road, which mostly were the terribly dilapidated roads of Indiana. The only thing I could think of was that we are fucked with Mayor Pete as our Transportation Secretary cause Indiana's highways are in shambles, people. Gays in charge of infrastructure and transportation? The only thing transportation-related gays are good at is walking fast.
We made it all the way up past Madison, Wisconsin as the 4th of July vacationers slowly trickled onto the highways throughout the day, making driving a U-Haul with our car attached a bit more annoying. We stayed at an insanely expensive Quality Inn where our feet stuck to the carpeted floor and we ordered Pizza Hut and Diego pulled another tick out of his hair. As a recovering alcoholic I am ashamed to admit that no, even that did not beat my rock bottom.
On Saturday, the Holy Land was within reach. Just a few more hours to our destination: a U-Haul facility where we could unload our possessions that weren't left on the street in Brooklyn. It was there that I used the bathroom and peed all over the sleeve of the shirt that was tied around my waist and I thought to myself "Who the hell do I think I am, moving across the country?"
We unloaded our shit and Derrick from U-Haul delayed our departure by another 20 minutes by engaging in what we would come to know as the Minnesota Goodbye.
Finally, at like 4pm, we arrived at our new furnished studio apartment. We'll be staying here until we find a house and luckily it is a total 180 from our Brooklyn pre-war, cockroach-infested apartment. For starters, it's brand new! It has a dishwasher! It has laundry in the actual unit! There is a rooftop with a grill and firepit! It's like the Soho House but in downtown Minneapolis. Tito's explosive diarrhea slowly started to dissipate and we were able to get out and see some of Minneapolis.
By seeing some of Minneapolis, I mean we made 4 trips to Target in as many days. Some initial observations after living in NYC for over a decade: holy shit, everything is big. Like, I could walk with my arms outstretched through a Target aisle and not hit anyone for hours. I think we kept returning to Target because it was the biggest Target we'd ever seen. Also, Target in NYC is a hellscape. Target in the burbs is...heaven. There is actual space here - on the streets, in the yards, in the grocery stores. I am living my best suburban fantasy in an actual city.
We decided to regain some normalcy by checking out Zola at the Landmark Lagoon movie theater. Zola was interesting - it felt poetic, unique from other movies I'd ever seen, and jolting like the original tweets if lacking a little bit of her initial charm. I'm still thinking about it a few weeks later.
Parents! 5 days! Maybe too much?
Later that week, my parents came to visit and help us look at our very first houses. My dad insisted on being there to help me know what to look out for and what problems to avoid, etc. That was extremely kind and I'm very grateful for that because it was ultimately helpful! They stayed for 5 days. When I got sober, I made a decision that 3 days is my limit for family visits. I am now more certain than ever that 3 days is my limit for family visits, even when they're being very generous and helpful.
On our first weekend of looking, we saw 8 houses. The first house we looked at on the "secret" MLS website for realtors belonged to a hoarder (bless their heart) and featured a noose hanging in their basement. We decided not to go see that one. Instead, the first house we viewed in real life had a bullet hole through the front porch window and lodged into the siding next to the front door. Bless their hearts also. House hunting. We had truly arrived.
Starting things off right.
Diego and I really want an old house with original woodwork, so we got to see lots of houses with "skate parks" as our fucking amazing realtor Theo calls them - floors that go up and down and are warped into oblivion for various reasons. Theo also happens to be an artist and they wrote and designed a coloring book I own called Unicorns Are Jerks.
By that Saturday, we had only been in Minnesota for one full week and we had already seen 8 houses. By Sunday, we'd put an offer in on a house because we are truly b-a-n-a-n-a-s. It felt like a long shot, but it stood out like a glittery, non-jerkish unicorn compared to the noose house and other houses we'd seen. We figured the worst that can happen is that we'd get rejected on our first weekend of looking.
Bye bye Mom and Dad, thanks for everything!
And rejected we were! By Tuesday, my parents left (2 days later than they should have) and we had to do Olivia Rodrigo things like get our new driver's licenses. That weekend, we went for more and by our 2nd week in Minnesota, we'd seen 13 houses and put another offer in on a long-shot dream home.
We were, of course, rejected again. I don't know if you've heard, but buying a house right now is a stupid, stupid, horrible, foolish idea, just like pretty much anything else millennials ever do, apparently. Everything I've read (which might be everything that exists on the subject, to be honest) tells me we're in for a long haul with multiple rejections, especially because we refuse to buy a house without inspecting it, which is apparently a thing people are doing. Could not ever be me.
Proud? You betcha.
In between looking at houses on our 2nd weekend, we went to our first Twin Cities Pride festival. It was there that I found the perfect outlet for blowing off real estate steam: a queer rugby team! I had always wanted to join one of these things in New York but I was incredibly intimidated. But I'm a new woman in Minnesota, and so I decided to go for it.
It was so. much. fun! I've only been to one practice, but I'm hooked for life. You can find me on the internet watching rugby videos, researching why cleets are a thing, and looking for cheap used rugby balls. This is me now!
On our third weekend in Minnesota, we looked at more houses, including our newly revised dream house with beautiful original woodwork, a retro kitchen, and a completely unfinished upstairs that could be literally anything we want it to be. Feeling totally defeated, we put our lowest offer yet in on the house and already the tension was getting to us.
How bizarre, then, was it when we were returning the next day from our self-care lake trip that we got a text from Theo letting us know that...
we got the fucking house?!?!?!
Everybody, meet Elaine. We named her Elaine after the 92 year old previous owner who lived there (as you can see) for her entire life. We are so excited, scared, and bewildered because we totally thought we'd be swept up and chewed out in this real estate market. It just goes to show you that you never know until you try, and you just might surprise yourself. We'll take it!
Homo Owners