I am presently suffering the agonies of mid-winter flu. Typing is exhausting and my brain is all a-fog with the unwashed desire to return to bed. I also suffer the angst of once again being homeless.*
The home that almost was, isn’t any more. The inspection turned up enough accumulative unknown repairs to make the purchase cost prohibitive. Added to that, the home turned out to be radioactive. (Okay, I exaggerate, but it helps me to think it was a toxic environment that I am better off rid of.) The inspection report showed Radon.
For those of you who don’t know what radon is…you need to educate yourselves. It is a natural gas that is a “colorless, radioactive, inert gaseous element formed by the radioactive decay of radium.” (thefreedictionary.com) Now, I’d love to develop super powers as much as the next girl, but unfortunately, radiation only does that in cartoons. Radon is the number two cause of lung cancer leading to deaths by the thousands every year. It can be found anywhere. But in my particular case, it turned up in the inspection report, sealing the doubts I had based on the myriad other things wrong with the building—the fact that the roof wasn’t entirely attached being one of them. This means I am back to house hunting and the market has been picked clean.**
I am weepy with being ill for two…(wait, what day is it?)…three days. I am depressed that the house I was hoping was perfect for me, isn’t. I am tired of looking at the real estate site only to see all the other houses I liked have gone to less indecisive buyers. I have been living on cookies and hot chocolate for days…and I have just run out of cookies.
I could use a hug. And chicken soup. And a house.
Asterisk Bedazzled Footnote:
*’Cause nothing warms the soul like hyperbole.
**Like the Thanksgiving Turkey on Friday, the only houses left are the neck bones of that analogy. And nobody wants to live in a neck bone.