Throughout this entire description please attach the visual of a burning Du Maurier cigarette. He’s around 23 years old. Originally from Winnipeg, but out here to try and (escape his massive credit card bills in Manitoba) make some cash and enjoy the mild weather. Big baggy jeans with unattractive wear and tear billowing over faded puffy yellow skate shoes. In the cooler months he wears a hoody with a strangely unfashionable blue knit sweater jacket over top. It has caribou heads knitted into all parts of it. It’s hideous. He’s not overweight, but he’s not fit either. There is always 5 days growth of facial hair on his face – and not the sexy kind. His voice is booming and friendly and I would go as far to say authentic. Every conversation he starts makes you cringe as his opening lines sound something like these… “Soooooo I was thinking…” “OK – SO – what do you think about this?” “Hey Day? Would you have a problem with me…” “OK get THIS! You know that wall in our bedroom?” He’s the kind of guy that takes on a massive job and then takes forever to finish it. I’m married to one already and don’t need to live above one as well.
Along with the burning cigarette there is the constant haze of marijuana is his eyes. He is either super baked or really really freaking baked. I have no problem with smoking weed at all – what I have a problem with is the people he gets it from. After several months of him living here they started to trickle in. Our semi happy house went from OK to sketchy once again. I’ll not get into it, but over the past year the police were on our doorstep looking for him quite a few times. My patience was running thin again and I was ready to throw in the towel with renting this house. The 45 minute long showers, tarped in carport, the smell of weed in our house for hours (smells like a skunk is living downstairs) his dog that shits all over our backyard, the new puppy that barks incessantly for hours and hours and hours when left alone, the leaking pipes, the furnace that is now making exploding sounds… All these things took my last straw - and broke it.
My I mention that I am 6 and half months pregnant? My mind is racing ahead to a new baby in my arms come spring. As the situation downstairs appears to be escalating at an alarming pace my ‘nesting’ instincts have risen to a whole new level. The bitchy ‘I’m-going-to-get-what-I-need-to-make-my-home-safe-for-this-new-child’ kind of level. You just don't mess with that kind of estrogen - do you?
The phone rang 2 weeks ago. It was the landlord of Zol’s garage that he rents. He was in need of some new checks for 2011. My mind started racing… Speaking with Zol later I suggested he ask the guy if he had anything in the way of a HOUSE for us to rent. Within the next few days life spiraled quickly into something we had not conceived. He DID have a house. An ENTIRE house with NO tenants. It was in an area that I loved, walking distance to everything including one of my best friends 2 blocks away. Zol had not asked for the monthly rental price but the landlord told us to do a drive by if we wanted. That night we walked around the empty property. 
The rain was lightly falling. I held Graye in my arms and as we rounded the side of the house I put her down to inspect what seemed to be a small swimming pool and behind that a massive vegetable garden. Cucumbers , zucchini, tomatoes and fresh lettuce for dinner were already racing through my mind…
Barely able to sleep that night I hounded Zol the next day to find out the price. $400 over our budget. My heart sank but I knew the asking price was ridiculously low for what we’d be getting. I insisted on seeing the inside. I also made a call to mine and his parents who were both willing to help till after the new baby was born and we could figure out a new budget. The next day we walked the inside of the empty home. It was perfect. PERFECT. Zol looked at me and said “Sooooo….?” “Where do we sign?” I said back. He chuckled but I could hear apprehension in his laugh. A check was drawn up for the damage deposit and the place was ours.
Four days later and my house is a disaster. Boxes, full garbage bags, dirty floors. We have a 15 day cross over from this house to the new one but all I hear in my head is “Get me OUTTA here!” The stress of moving will be so worth it in the end. Our own place. Finally. I can birth baby girl number two in our new living room and scream my heart away with no thought of the ‘people downstairs’.
I’ll give you an update when all is said and done. Goodbye crazy house in South Vancouver and hello Hastings Sunrise!
Do they make pills for people that obsess about things that are safe to take while pregnant? I think I might need them…
