We looked at a house today: for about one minute. When the realtor opened the door, water, water everywhere. The house is a shortsale and the owner literally did just walk away. The floorboards had warped upwards and water damage was visible on the wall. My significant other said we actually did the realtor a favor.
As all of this is going on, my next door neighbor (convicted drug felon) drove by. I had a gut feeling he would. The house is in a well trafficked area near our current one. No puns intended here.
The realtor said the house’s next door neighbor is, maybe now was, interested in buying it and tearing it down. No comment on this either.
I spent several years doing volunteer work with Habitat for Humanity and learned a lot about construction and houses. All of the houses we have looked at have potential of some sort: either a major fix-it-up or just major touch ups.
In some way the burst pipe is a metaphor. I don’t look for perfection in life, that belief never existed. I know where ever we move next something will have to be done. Yet walking into the house with water everywhere reminded me for a brief second of why we struggle so much and how when one thing “bursts” we can either clean up the water quickly or just let it spread. Everyone has their moments when something can’t be contained anymore and we explode in a good or bad way. That’s part of the reason we’re looking to move: our pipe has been burst long enough and we have contained the water as much as we can. Nothing where we live now is ever going to change and loyalties been made clear. It’s time to go. We don’t want to be here when other pipes are burst.