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04.10.2002 - 10:21 a.m.

Wednesday
Boy, things sure are different around these here parts. For one thing, I've been talking like a character in a bad Western. For another thing, I've been BUSY. I had almost forgotten what that was like. I mean, I used to wait to wash my hair until the afternoon because it was something to do and I didn't want to spend all my productiveness in the morning. I doled it out, you know?

Now I feel like I'm some character in a fast-paced computer game where all these random objects are flying at me and I have to deploy all these complicated weapons that are always hidden in remote and annoying places. I get to a point where I'm about to finish a particular task, and an email will come in requiring attention, and in order to respond to the email I have to garner a management decision, and to get that I have to find an old communication - and pretty soon I'm covered in dust and cat fur digging through cobwebby files or something. And after all that I'm like 'Hey! I never finished that task!' So I pick that back up and then someone comes in my office and then -

You get it. It's challenging, because I'm endlessly rooting for existing information like a badger-chasing weiner dog. But I'm having fun, and it feels good to be DOING things for a change.

Ok, so my brain is currently on the verge of 'TILT' with the job stuff. So I figured the absolute best thing to do to improve my mental state, to provide clarity and relaxation while simultaneously introducing the promise of even further relaxation as the days go by, was to make an offer on a house. Oh yeah. Nothing says low-stress like offering total strangers an obscene lump of cash for a house that may or may not be infested by killer bees.

Although I think the bees thing would show up in the inspection, right? Anyway. JB and I went out with our realtor on Sunday, saw a bunch of places, then saw The House. I know what you're thinking - you're thinking, "Sundry, you fall for houses like Anna Nicole Smith falls for ancient mummified millionaires." Which is heavy-fuckin-duty, man. But here's the thing, this house was so perfect. Just a knockout on the inside, nice yard, great neighborhood, everything.

The only real drawback was that the place doesn't have a garage. We pondered it and ruminated and dwelled and obsessed and finally decided what the HELL, let's make an offer. And then we waited. Time crawled by as we pictured the owners reading our offer and crapping themselves with helpless laughter (we offered 12K below their asking price). And then...they counter-offered! It was like a big swordfight - they parried and thrusted and we dodged and leaped and stuff!

Actually, it was nowhere near that exciting.They basically said they would take the offer at 10K below, not 12K. Not a huge enormous deal.

But then JB started thinking. He said to himself, "Self, can you really live without a garage? After all, self, you do have this Tim Tooltime fantasy of building up a huge collection of power tools and other manly garage-related items." So after an enormously painful talking-and-thinking process, we decided to pull out from the offer.

So it was like this emotional breakup from the house that I was totally digging. I go to bed Monday night feeling sorrowful and a bit honked at JB for not figuring this through before we made the offer. Then yesterday JB writes me an email. "I'm having second thoughts", he writes. "I keep thinking we may have passed up an amazing opportunity we won't see again." So I drove to his office and I shot him.

No, I didn't really. I was all supportive of his feelings and stuff, you know I'm cool like dat. The day goes on, and JB finally calls me and says "I'm calling our agent! We're getting that house, dammit!" - and it was like one of those turning points in a movie where music swells and you feel this oppressive sense of impending ACTION!

Well, all that really happened action-wise is that we drove out to our realtor's office, signed some stuff that means we accept their terms, and wrote a frightening check for 'earnest money' (it's earnest, all right, earnestly hoping it won't be wasted). Now we have to wait to see if the owners agree with everything. According to their agent, they are kind of freaked out by us pulling out and may not want to pursue our offer further - for fear we might suddenly get cold feet again somewhere in the process. I wish I could just talk with them, tell them that we're serious this time and that JB is ready to COMMIT, dang it.

We're supposed to hear today. If all goes well, then we're on the way to inspections, freakishly long legal documents, and even more psychotic episodes from JB's mom who thinks the house is a horrible terrible monstrously bad idea and we're going to lose all our money and have to live in cardboard boxes for the rest of our lives! Yay!

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go back ::: forward

04.06.2002 - - Will a slow song ever fill me with that mix of terror and fervent hope again?
04.05.2002 - I'm already starting to worry about the potential size of my ass.
04.04.2002 - They need a marketing ninja to come in and kick major ninja ass, and friends - I am that ninja.

0 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

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