03.18.2002 - 8:59 a.m.
Monday, again. AGAIN. Bah. Did you have a marrrrvy weeekend?
I had a surprisingly productive and interesting weekend, myself.
So JB finally returned
home on Friday, and there was much rejoicing. We did our routine
of happily inspecting things he brought home, talking excitedly
about things he did, and then just sitting on the couch smiling
goofily at each other. And then I called him a dorkopatamus for
leaving his socks on the floor and he told me I was all full
up with snaggification, and everything was back to normal.
I have already bitched
about the fact that I have to take the -dammit to hell
- driving test on Wed., right? Well, in addition to the fact
that I am currently driving around without a valid license, my
tags were set to expire March 17. And I had to get an emissions
test before I could get the tags. In order to drive my car, I
always need a jump start - because since I rarely drive it the
battery is always drained. Anyway, in one solid hour of more
activity on my part since, like, July, we charged my car, got
a new battery, did the emissions thing, and went to a licensing
office to get new tags. Ta-da, I am almost street legal, folks.
Ooh, which sounds kind of kinky somehow.
On Saturday we spent some
time just tooling around downtown, not doing much of anything.
We went to a gaming store and stared very hard at an Xbox system,
as if we could somehow mentally beam its dirty slut $300 ass
over to our house. JB bought a new pair of Nikes, thankfully
replacing his old megawatt white clompers which belong in a Run
DMC video or something. I tried on some Nike workout pants that
gave me, and I am going to try and say this delicately, False
Camel. My search for the perfect workout pants joins the perfect
sports bra/jeans quest. (Myeh - you gotta have a quest. Some
people, it's Lost Kingdoms or Golden Fleeces. Me, it's over the
shoulder boulder holsters and such.)
All right. So Sunday, that
was the day that something interesting happened. Interesting
to me, anyway. Probably not to you.
I never promised you a
rose garden, ok? God.
JB and I have been talking
a lot about buying a house. He's created all kinds of very complicated
Excel sheets that calculate mortgage/insurance/tax/body fat info.
We recently arranged to borrow some money from family. We figured
a way, in a robbing-Peter-to-pay-Paul manner, to come up with
the monthly payments even if my unemployment insurance runs out
and I don't find something for several more months - after which
I must sell my lesser-used organs, such as the pancreas.
A small interjection here
to note that the Seattle housing market is completely insane.
Like, IN THE MEMBRANE. Everything costs a hundred billion million
dollars. And that's just the condos.
All this talking and figuring
has been sort of stressful, yet exciting. Sunday we looked up
some houses on the Windermere site, and hit the road. Went through
some eastside neighborhoods that looked decent. We found one
ridiculously close to JB's work which looked ok, for the price.
I was interested in getting an agent to show us the house, maybe
this week. And then we drove out to the boonies. Past fields.
Cows. Horses. To this house that JB had found, that I wasn't
particularly attracted to, based on the listing.
What can I say. I'm all
enamored and stuff. We just loved it. It's got a neat
floor plan that makes it feel like a log home or lodge. There's
a huge yard, almost an acre. There is a creek running nearby
that sounds, oh, I don't know, a TAD nicer than the traffic/construction
noise I'm used to. It costs less than anything else we've seen.
Here are the downsides.
It's got a master bedroom/bath that are unfinished. Sheet rock
has been laid, along with the electrical and plumbing stuff,
but the rest would be up to us. Hence the affordable price. Also,
it's way out there in BFE. We just wouldn't be living in Seattle
But - but! The yard, the
creek! The pretty stained pine on the inside! We can finish a
room, hell, isn't that what Home Fucking Depot is for? We could
get a DOG!
Anyway. I'm not an old
hand at house shopping, this is the first place we've seen that
I really liked. So I'm all.wigged.out. We have all these questions
we sent to the realtor. One of them was 'is it built on a slab
or a foundation', because apparently building on a slab is like
building on an ancient sacred graveyard or something - bad things
are supposed to happen. And not being super familiar with all
this stuff, we have to take other people's advice as gospel,
which is sort of like when you have a $700 bill at the mechanic
and you just hope and pray he's not full of shit.
Ah well. I'm sure I'll
find out that my dream place is built on the dreaded SLAB, it's
full of flesh-eating termites, and there is nuclear waste in
the creek. We'll see.
03.14.2002 - Someone's
gotta be bikini-waxing the hell out of those chicks, too.
03.13.2002 - But
today I must get to Lascha's house, 2,000 light years away.
03.12.2002 - maybe
it's because I had to go to the eleventh circle of HELL this
Evil. Zombie dog fu, beam-of-light-death fu, 'the need to feed'
fu. Heads roll. Two breasts. Joe Bob Sundry sez check it out.
comments so far.
I have moved. - 1.03.2005
Obviously, a work in progress. - 12.27.2004
Happy holidays! - 12.24.2004
Listen, I am not a complete dick, it's not like I want Joe to die alone surrounded by cats or something. - 12.23.2004
Plus I am convinced my butt is extra big when it's upside down. - 12.22.2004