Lord.  Moving.  What a pain.  Even if the home you’re moving into is the home of your dreams.  Even if everyone is so excited.  Triple digit temperatures, a trip to an urgent care clinic and old age can suck the excitement right out.

We closed on Thursday, May 23.  By Friday, the 24th, the upstairs AC unit stopped working.  But we have a history here and I think it’s important to step back for just a second and examine that.

The very first house we bought was in Texas.  It was awesome.  After a few months of living there, we noticed a super wet spot in the yard.  Turns out that a pipe had broken or was in the process of breaking.  Regardless, our home warranty did not cover it and, after a couple of weeks of plumbing work, we were out a pretty hefty chunk of change.

The second house we purchased was here in Georgia.  We were moved courtesy of Uncle Sam and everything was going well.  Until we started the dishwasher.  Most modern humans start a dishwasher and go to bed.  Most don’t wake up to half of the house flooded by the dishwasher.  Since the house was new and the dishwasher was inspected the builders had to help us out some, but it fell to the insurance company to replace the carpet, etc…..  Did I mention that the dishwasher flooded after we’d been in the house less than a week?

So here we are, looking at house number 3.  Our dream home.  Seriously.  Closed on a Thursday, AC went down on a Friday.  The ink was barely dry.  The warranty company barely knew the house had changed hands.  Not to pull some Pollyanna bullshit but the upside is that the lower AC works and we currently do not live in the new house full time.  That won’t happen until June 3.  After the movers do their thing.

At this point I’ve learned something very important.  The third time is not a charm.  I’m taking Garp’s perspective on this; at least the house pre-disastered.

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