The Great Fozz Migration: Part I. Stress is My Master

Latest posts by jjfozz (see all)

My wife and I have been married for 18 years. For 17 of those we lived in the same townhouse. Entropy sucks. We were going to move several times, but the vagaries of the economy and my attitude, which resulted in getting canned and fucking up our income, prevented us from going anywhere. Then the Spawn came, and they made deep friendships with the other kids, and then we got to know their parents, and so it goes.

Finally, we decided it was time. Mrs. Fozz wore me down and after a dozen shit ass things happening in the neighborhood, we put the plan into action. So we did it. Took the plunge and started looking for houses. I would rather have a glass rod shoved down my dick and smashed with a brick.

We finally found a house. And then we put ours up for sale. And then . . .nothing. We found out that our neighbors discovered a great way to save money – don’t pay your mortgage, or your car payment, or anything. So next door went into foreclosure. Every night I had visions of donning camouflage, buying an authentic K-Bar knife, and going fucking apeshit on the assholes. I’m talking Leatherface level carnage. Fucking assholes.

I have never, ever gone up against stress like this. Not in school, marriage, child raising, cooking meth, nothing. I lost weight and barely kept my shit together. My wife was off the fucking charts. We cleaned out our house for “staging” and bought new appliances – this leads us to my first major fuck up – and I have had tons of those.

The refrigerator was delivered and the guys who brought it in would not connect it. Fine, fucking I’ll do it. I was looking at the tube that fed into the fridge and saying, “This has nothing to do with the fridge, it feeds water to the unit. I should not disconnect it. Wait until the plumber gets here. You are out of your depth. Like Ray Rice at a NOW convention.”

I pulled the tube out. And it was like looking down the face of a fire hose. Water was GUSHING out. It sprayed the new paint in the kitchen. Water seeped through the floor into the basement. Fucking goddamn fucking crazy town. No one was in the house. I was screaming for help. Finally the delivery dudes came to the rescue.

Have you ever been on a different floor, yelling up the steps to a person whose second language is English? I was yelling “Off” and he was yelling “Jes! No! Jes!” Christ on a pogo stick. We finally turned it off. I have never been that stressed in my life, I killed a six pack and my heart was racing like Rosie O’Donnel’s at a Golden Corral Grand Opening.

Shit story short: we sell the house.

Now onto the next chapter: “Contractors Should All Die Ugly Deaths.”


Article Rating
Notify of
Inline Feedbacks
View all comments

Yeah, the water shut-off valve in the basement is your friend. Once you figure that out, you’ll realize why plumbers are overpriced mouth-breathers.

/installs new sinks in every bathroom

//flips off plumbers


I feel you man. I bought my house in down here in ’03 trying to be a responsible semi-adult at 23, and ended up buying shortly before the crash. At one point, probably 10 to 20% of the houses around our area were foreclosed on and sitting vacant. It was so bad the banks were not evicting people just so they’d keep the house in livable condition and not end up with squatters and shit. I was upside down on my fucking house for almost a decade, and it’s only come back around the last couple years.


“Contractors Should All Die Ugly Deaths.”

I would like to subscribe to your newsletter

Game Time Decision

I’ve told the wife that we have a choice. We either move to a bungalow so that I don’t have to do as many stairs or we get a stair-chair thingy installed when we get older. She wisely picked the bungalow, so i have 1 more move and then done.


One move before you’re done, and one more after.


We bought our current abode in 1998. Despite what my wife says (where the fuck did “I’ve always wanted to retire on the Central Coast somewhere” come from???), I will die here. Moving is terrible and the people encouraging it should die.


Every 3 or so months, we start cosplaying as home buyers, and I’m filled with existential terror at the thought of her actually going the next step and talking to banks. We’ve always rented, but with multiple dogs and working a billion hours a week for the last decade, we sort of want to have something to show for it. What I’m trying to do is wait for the rest of humanity to realize that they’re still building houses in a country that has more empty houses than it does people without homes so the industry collapses to the point I can trade my car in for a 3 bedroom.


Front seat, back seat, trunk…you already HAVE a three bedroom!

The Right Reverend Electric Mayhem

You can sleep in your car, but you can’t drive a house to work.


comment image

“Damn, if I rented that, I wouldn’t have gotten in trouble.”

-F. Smoot

King Hippo

I had a similarly hellish “single dad” move from the house I kept like 4 more years so kids could have stability – to the townhouse where I currently reside with the two cats.

You can BET YOUR SWEET ASS I will die here.

Horatio Cornblower

Oh goddammit. We just bought a new refrigerator, too.

King Hippo

just make sure whoever delivers will hook up. If not, PAY FOR SOMEONE TO DO IT.

Horatio Cornblower

Guy who delivered it is me, so we’re gonna be looking for someone else to hook it up.


These things are so fucking annoying. “We hooked up your new dryer. It’s not connected to the vent.” “Why?” “We don’t do that. *fucks off*”


You guys are pitiful. I mean that in the nicest way (except for Hippo, because Cardinals fans deserve all of the bad things).


It should be fairly easy, if the plumbing was done right. When you pull the old one out, see if they correctly installed a shut off valve at the supply right at the wall, but I assume that depends on code in your area. If there is one, it is fairly easy to switch them out. Unless you got a Samsung, bitches use a hose with different size couplers than every one else.

yeah right

And this is why I’m a life long renter. This is terrifying.

Last Canadian

Yea, but think of the equity…. My dad.

Don T

Word. While I was married, my hobby was screenwriting a sequel: “30 Years a Mortgager”.