Nests

Scott and I moved three times while living in NYC. If you've ever had to do this, even once, then you deserve all of the things. Why? The process looks like this:

1) Check bank account online. Do you have enough in your savings account to cover your first and last months rent, a moving truck, plus your security deposit? If yes, is there any left over to afford to pay a real estate broker to do all of the legwork for you?  If you were us, those answers were always, yes, then an awwwww, nope. If you did, skip to step #4. If you are us, continue on to step #2.

2) The search is all on you. Start with Craigslist. Email any and all apartments that match your criteria. Sit back for no less than 2 minutes and wait for the responses, which will, 99% of the time, come back as one of the following: A) I'm sorry, that apartment was just rented, even though yes, it was just listed 1 minute ago. B) That apartment actually has a fee that I forgot to write about in the listing. I am a Realtor, so can you afford to pay the extra thousand to secure this? C) This unit is no longer available, but I have one in another one of my buildings for only 2500$ more per month. When would you like to go and see it? D) It IS still available, though please note my question: Are you comfortable sharing a bathroom with all of the tenants on your floor? or E) It IS still available. You need to come right away, as three other people have already emailed me since I listed it one minute ago. (I won't list option F, the other 1% of the responses...it is never kind, or appropriate, and usually comes from a bored 12 year old in his parents basement)

3) Once you get reply option E, you run. Run to grab your bank statements, your job verification letter, and your most recent credit score copies. Then, you run to the first taxi that you see.

4) Go and see the apartment. If the bathroom and bedroom are in separate rooms from each other (don't ask) and mice are not breeding in the oven, you will more than likely want to secure this unit. To qualify, you must prove that you earn 40x your monthly rent. Do that, and your gold. Fail to do so and start over at step 1.

It's no surprise that when we moved back to Tampa, we were burnt out and in no hurry to begin the process again. We spent the next two years living with Scott's mother, Linda. During the last year of those two, we began our search for our first home. This process started off as fun, then quickly became a #FloridaMan version of the mess above. The houses that we saw and actually liked all had major issues, or were snatched up by investors.

Finally, in doing my own search, I found it. A place that was literally walking distance from Scott's job, within our price point, and with a yard that was, by our standards, big. It had just been listed, so I made the call and got us the first showing possible, which was that very day. We went. It needed work. It smelled like wet dog. But the yard and the bones were incredible, and with two creative eyes, it could be made to be really, really comfortable. We made an offer. It was ours by the end of that next day. And then....we tore it apart. Not shown here are our bathrooms-for some reason we never took before shots-but now, just know that they are sparkly white, new in appearance, and that we have mastered the art of wainscoting. Now, for those of you that have asked, here are our befores, and our afters:

BEFORES:

MacPherson's room. The carpets were stained with dog pee and the walls were a baby blue shade in color.

The living room. Beige walls, chipped tile floors, and dog hair matted into every available corner, crevice, and hole imaginable.

Molly's room. Again with the beige walls, and carpets that reeked of dog urine.

The side porch. Dog hairs everywhere. Stains everywhere. Smells like...no comment.

The kitchen. Red. Blue stickery laminate counters. Light wood. Roughed up sink.

Dining room view #1

Dining room view #2

Entrance way

Living room

Hallway, again with the cracked hair filled tiles.

Afters:

The kitchen. Ignore the items on the counters. We are still cleaning after our shower that was held here last weekend.

Subway tiles, white doors, raised butcher-block counter-tops, and country styled pulls.

Farmhouse sink. Happy.

MacPherson's room. Not seen here is his car rug, little chair, and dresser.

Living room. Yes, we still need curtains and art work. Aware.

Molly's room. The sign is made by a sweet friend named Angela. It references that Molly is our miracle. Our gift after our loss. I cried.

This was Scott's childhood dresser. He let me lady it up. I love the results. And thank you to Deona for making the curtains, M sign, Molly letters below, and pillows/blanket! I love my friends. 

Dining room. The chandelier and mirror are my color choices too. Thanks to Scott for letting me paint how I wanted.

For the record, almost all of this was completed by Scott DeVore. On top of his full time job and his roles as a dad and a husband, he worked his tail off for three months getting this place ready for us to move into. Thanks to our family and friends for the help with the remainder. It was a lot: All new floors throughout. Paint in every room. Heavy cleaning. New kitchen(!). New bathrooms. Done. We also replaced a lot behind the scenes like a whole-house water filtration system and electricity panel, and cleaned up the jungle of a yard. And now, we are home. And settled. Good thing, because in just two weeks time or less, we gain our little Molly. I'm going to go take a nap and be thankful for our humble, cozy, nest.