House of Horrors

I continue my odyssey in search of a suitable home. Last night I toured a house with an engineer I hired to evaluate the house and tell me if there was anything structurally wrong with it. I had not met the engineer in person prior to having him show up at the house to be inspected. He turned out to be older than the dirt on which the house was standing. He was also very fond of liver spots and skin tags. I think that without the liver spots and skin tags there wouldn’t have been anything left of him. Soon after entering the house we went into the basement. We were alone as I surveyed what I hoped would soon be my new domain. Then I turned around to find Engineer Skin Tag with his belt undone and his drawers threatening to follow the law of gravity. After my heart skipped a beat, or two, I realized he was just a fat, old man trying to keep his pants up. This turned out to be a re-curring theme throughout the rest of the inspection. I paid by check. It’s fortunate that I was paying a flat fee rather than by the amount of time he spent because it turns out that Engineer Butt Crack was quite a chatty Cathy and very little of it had anything to do with the house. Here is a partial list of things I learned from my new best friend:
1. There are only 3 universities in the United States that “turn out 2nd Lieutenants, and Norwich University is one of them.”
2. At the base of some mountain in Maine there is “a perfect strain of mice” that researchers like to use for experiments.
3. Once he, his mother, and his brother went fishing in the Araganon Creek, “no deeper than your crotch,” and pulled out 150 trout in one weekend.
4. Either he mated with a water buffalo, or he was much more attractive in his youth, because he’s a great-grandfather now. I’m betting that his kids and grandkids resemble the mailman.
5. After a year at Norwich University he transferred to the University of Maine where the aforementioned researchers once asked the students to help put out a fire to save the research mice. My guess is that the mice set the fire to keep Engineer Blabbermouth from talking to them anymore.

Well, I’m not sure if I’ll buy the house, but I’m pretty sure I’ll specifically ask for a mute house inspector next time. I’ll be happy to accept a written report. Stay tuned for tomorrow’s feature, “The Narcoleptic Babysitter!”