Part 7: "Why didn't we figure this out earlier?"

After our revelation on Santa Clarita we kept our search closer to home. We actually ended up revisiting a house on Kimlin Ave in Glendale that we originally had refused. By this point in our search pretty much all out illusions, perhaps "delusions" is a more accurate descriptive, had run down the drain of LA real estate reality and we were ready to go with a less than "move in ready" house. As I said, we had seen this property on Kimlin Ave previously. It was actually the third place we had seen and it was in ok shape, but quite outdated, but it did have a big garage and a decent living room. When I asked Renata if she thought we should look at it again she came up with her most brilliant revelation yet; "Why see it? Why not just put in an offer and if it's accepted we still have 17 days to accept or reject. But at least we won't be wasting our time in the event we're outbid. And, she added, we won't get our hopes up and won't be so crushed if we get rejected."

The clouds parted and the sun filtered down from the heavens. Halleluiah! And that’s just what we did. We saw a property, we sent an offer. We saw a property, we sent an offer. Of course, the LA market being what it is, we were obviously rejected time and time again.

Would we ever get a bite? This is exactly why I hated fishing with my brother when I was little. I just didn’t have the patience to sit there casting and recasting and baiting and waiting for the off chance I might get a nibble. But wait! What’s that cute little yellow house on Bend Drive in LA? That looks nice in the photos…and only $314,900! We saw a property, we sent an offer. A day or two later Gayle’s caller ID appeared on my ringing phone. Hmm? “Hello?”

Holy crap! They kind of accepted our offer. Well, they countered, but for just $324,000. What the hell. Let’s do it.

We set up a time to meet with Gayle to actually see the property and drove up the hill. We got there a few moments early and took a peak in the window. Hmm, where was the kitchen? Hmm, where was the floor? Hmm, why’s there a big gap between that door and the house? Hmm, what’s that smell?

Gayle arrived and apologized for being a bit late and opened the lock box. No key. Ok, that’s incorrect. There was half a key. Someone had apparently broken the key off in the lock and although they didn’t tell the listing agent they did have the class to secure the broken end in the lock box. Awesome.

Fast forward twenty four hours later. We arrived, but this time Gayle got stuck in the infamous 101 traffic so David met us and opened the door. Lovely. Not quite as pungent as the urine house on Division street, but this place had a nice piquant mildew aroma reminiscent of a truck stop shower stall. The floors looked pretty good, a nice oak hardwood, but the two bathrooms on the main level were decorated in an early American slaughterhouse style. Downstairs, where another bathroom and the largest bedroom resided was the epicenter of the mildew smell. The floors were concrete, all but one and that floor was a gorgeous green, light green and black carpet that was accented with specks of unknown origin and had an audible “squish” when you traversed it.

Much like the Division Street house Renata didn’t even bother saying a word, I just got “the look” that said it all. When we came back upstairs David seemed to be just about to ask what we thought, but once he saw the look on our faces he already knew the answer.

When Gayle texted me later that evening and asked, “What did you think?” I replied with one word; Hilarious.