Messing With Texas

I'm very annoyed with a man from Texas.

I don't know him personally.  I don't actually even know his name.  I just know that he's in Texas, and I'm mad at him.

Rex and I are trying to buy a house.  We've been trying to buy a house since the beginning of the summer.  House hunting is really fun for about a month, and then it gets boring...and then it gets frustrating...and then it gets depressing.  There needs to be a support group or something.  Last weekend, when we were looking at our millionth house, Rex found me slowly, psychotically banging my head against the wall while I waited for him to finish looking at the sketchy basement. "We are never going to find a house," I droned mechanically.  "We're not.  It's not going to happen.  We're going to rent for the rest of our lives."  It was a low point in our search.

And then....we found it.

Admittedly I don't know if this is "the one."  It seems like lots of real estate deals fall through.  Even if it's not THE one, it's at least the one that restored my faith in the idea that perhaps we might one day find a house that we both like.  Rex and I both love it.  It wouldn't be a more "Rex" house or a more "Christine" house (like many of the houses we've seen have been).  This one is decidedly a "Webb" house, equal parts of what we both want.  We saw it and made an offer that same night.

*enter evil Texas man*

The Texas man (I mentally named him Lone Star) is selling the house.  He's a real estate investor who bought the house at an auction in May, paid some guys to come in and "flip" it, and is now selling it for three times what he bought it for.  That doesn't really bother me because the flipper guys did a good job on some repairs that I certainly didn't want to make, and the house is still worth more than the price we would be paying.  So Lone Star has never seen the house, he hired a Michigan realtor who he's never met to sell it for him, and he is basically just waiting for said realtor to send him a big fat check so he can buy some more Stetsons.

The house went on the market quite recently, and Lone Star wants to get all of the money he can out of it.  I get you, Lone Star.  You're a business guy.  The thing is, though, that Rex and I made a pretty good offer.  Our realtor says it's good, and even the listing agent has told you to accept it.  Come on, man!  We're cool people!  Rex wears a lot of cowboy clothes, just like you!  Sell us the house, please??

Lone Star said that he would "think about it."  A week ago.  That's a week of me freaking out on whether or not we are going to buy a house.  Obviously Lone Star is just waiting to see if someone will make a better offer, which is really annoying and a bit sadistic.  Don't string people along with maybes until you see if you can find a higher bidder (which, in all honesty, he probably could.  Hence my freaking out).

My realtor said that the Texas guy is being really unprofessional and rude, and even the listing agent has apologized and said that he's being ridiculous.  He (Lone Star) stopped answering the listing agent's calls, so the listing agent couldn't get through to him to talk about the deal.  Here's how I picture this going down:

Lone Star is some real estate mogul floating in his pool on a blue floaty.  He has a gin and tonic in the cup holder (because he's too sophisticated for beer), and he's kind of fat and bald but no one really cares because he's so rich.  People don't notice he's bald most of the time because he always wears a cowboy hat, but when he's in the pool he doesn't (he doesn't want to get the leather wet).  Instead he's just wearing is aviator sunglasses, smoking a cigarette, and wearing designer swimtrunks that his personal shopper picked out.  The trunks are trying vainly to cover his paunchy stomach.

"Mr. Star," says his butler Jones (no one's really sure if "Jones" is his first name or last name.  It's just Jones). "You are receiving another call from," (he checks the phone), " 'Michigan agent guy.'  Shall I answer?"

Lone takes a long drag of his cigarette and taps the ashes into the pool water.  "Nah, I told ya Jones, I'm not taking calls right now.  I'm relaxing."

"I understand, sir, but this is the third time he's called today.  Perhaps it's urgent."

"Jones, you gotta understand something about me.  I do things on my own time.  Everyone else can work around me."  He's quiet for a minute as he floats on the relaxing waves caused by the pool's waterfall.  "That Michigan house isn't even important.  I only did that deal to pay for the new addition."

"You're putting a new addition on the mansion, sir?"

"Heck no.  I meant the new addition to the pool.  I'm installing a water slide encrusted with gemstones because I think the cheerleaders will like it when they come to visit."  Lone takes the last gulp of his gin and tonic, puts his cigarette out on the ice, stretches his arms up and then folds his hands behind his head, clearly settling down for his 2:00 nap.

Jones looks a bit confused and hesitates because he doesn't want to bother Mr. Star during his very important relaxing time, but curiosity overcomes his sense of decorum.  "The cheerleaders, sir?  What cheerleaders?"

"Dagnabbit, Jones!  I told you I'm relaxing!"  He sits up and mutters something to himself that sounds like "You just can find good help these days."  He straightens his sunglasses, rubs his stubbly jaw, and looks at Jones.  "The Dallas Cowboy cheerleaders, Jones.  They're coming here for team building camp this summer."

"The whole team?"

"Sure, why not?  My house is huge.  I've always wanted a bunch of young, hot girls running around.  We'll have nightly pool parties out here all week, and I think they would like a gem encrusted slide."

"Definitely, sir.  Very good.  That's in very sophisticated taste."  Jones doesn't think it is in sophisticated taste at all, but then he has never had enough money to even consider buying something so strange.  "So, if Michigan agent guy calls again, you would prefer not to be bothered?"

"No.  Tell them I'm a busy man.  A very, very busy man."  Lone Star puts his hands back behind his head, closes his eyes, and drifts off to sleep.


Oops...I need to snap back to reality.  Sorry for taking you on a crazy trip into my imagination.  That is just what my mind does when I'm super stressed out and don't want to think about the fact that our beautiful house hangs in the balance because some guy in Texas can't make up his mind.  Our fabulous realtor had a brilliant idea today.  He called the listing agent and told him that for every day they wait to respond, our offer goes down $500.  The listing agent said that he understood and that he would definitely try to get an answer out of the seller tonight.  I initially felt a little sorry for him because I figured that Jones would never put the call through to Lone Star and then the realtor would lose his commission money, but then I remembered that actually I made that whole thing up and that Lone Star and Jones aren't real.  The house is real, though.  It's very real, and it's very awesome.  Prayers would be appreciated - I really hope we get it!