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As Jim mentioned just after the inspection, the front door to our new condo had a big ol', badly repaired gouge in it, and we asked for a credit to get it replaced (which we got). This week we found out from the management company how the gouge got there.
It turns out that's where the battering ram hit it when the police busted the door down during a drug raid about 18 months ago!
Yes, ladies and gents, our dream home was a crack house.*
We've been assured by everyone involved that the former owner is now in prison and his customers don't come around anymore and there's been no trouble since the big bust and everything is groovy. I'm not terribly worried -- in fact, I find the whole situation pretty hilarious and oddly in keeping with my ability to find nice places to live (when my mom saw my first post-college apartment in the not-terribly-nice part of Kalamazoo, she cried and made me promise to call her every night so she'd know I was still alive).
Anyway, our Realtor (Mouse!) wants the current seller to spring for a new lock on the main door and new keys for the other residents. So I guess we're going to ask for that.
But I sort of feel like TS Garp watching the plane crash into his new house, giddily convinced that such a horrible event at the outset renders him immune from other tragedy. To which Jim commented, "Yeah, nothing bad happened to Garp after that."
*Note: Technically, we don't know if that entrepreneurial tenant was selling crack and not some other substance nasty enough to get the door smashed in by cops. But "crack house" does sort of roll off the tongue. And we've already started referring to the new place as The Crack House. So when confronted with a great story, reality loses again.
Replies: 1 Confession
I really love it, especially the hardwood floors! You are the first family member to live in a crack house and probably not the last.
Barb Shaler @ 04/21/2007 10:39 AM CST