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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 any more.

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.

go back ::: forward

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 afternoon.

ARTIFACT: Resident 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.
this zombie bite sure does itch

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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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