I think it's time I join them once again. While I've always been conscious of my gods and have maintained my daily rituals without fail for the last 7 years, I'm experiencing a reawakening of sorts for the want of community. I blame this on
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sixxyvonevil and maxmurder_pa to an extent-- they are the first non-familial heathens I've met in the flesh, and count myself to be extremely fortunate to have such close friends who percieve the world the way I do, who conduct themselves with the same values as my own, and who know and cherish the Northern gods. It's nice to have people in my life who wear the hammer and the valknut. Before them, the only other person I knew to wear those symbols was my father. So it's unbelievably comforting to have friends who know and understand, and it's sparked within me a desire to once again try and reach out to the larger heathen community.Perhaps I may even be able to attend future TMs now that I'm all growed up with an income and heathen friends with whom I can travel.
I'd also been interested in the clergy program when I was a member back in college. Perhaps I can look into that with serious intent now. I would like very much to be part of a kindred in the Lehigh Valley, and if none exists, I'd be more than happy to create one and take on the responsibilities which it would entail.
Mmmm, more on which to mull and ponder, along with my application to become a freelance writer for Suite101. Of course, the two could be linked as I am applying to write about religion and spirituality on that site.
Mull mull mull. I'll have to look into the Troth clergy program after rejoining, which I shall do as soon as I post this entry. I'm long overdue for this.
- Mood:
refreshed
So I'm leaning more towards Suite101 now. Methinks I'd have more fun and better results if I get to write a variety of articles without having to tie them in to the Allentown community. . .
The last 24 hours have certainly been fascinating. Hooray for learning about some of the opportunities available to a lazy writer who wants to assert herself a bit more and get used to writing for publication on a regular basis, yeah? I'm not so concerned with making money off of my writing just yet. Right now, it's more about getting back into the habit of writing on a daily basis and learning to write with the intent of letting people read the end result (I must stop hoarding my work and sheilding it from prying eyes!).
Which reminds me, I need to locate my latest copy of "The Writer" magazine so I can make a list of the fiction writing contests that sound interesting. Now that I'm settled in and have my office, I can start prepping and submitting fiction to contests just for the hell of it.
- Mood:
contemplative
Or I could be a Vampire Examiner and include history and folklore along with the standard reviews and geekery.
Or I could see how they feel about just a general Allentown Undead Examiner and cover both zombies AND vampires. That way I can indulge in my real-life zombie mania AND my fascination with shroud eaters and mythology.
But I'll open this up to a general survey: What kinds of non-fiction articles do you think I should write? In other words, is there a certain topic that you'd be eager to read about if you knew *I* was the one writing about it? I'm posing this question to everyone just so I can figure out what kind of audience I might have (no sense in writing about Odhinnism if no one's going to read it!).
Mmmm, the more I think about it, the more I want to be the official Undead Examiner. That will look fabulous on my resume!
- Mood:
determined
Now that that's out of the way, I think I've found a potentially interesting freelancing opportunity. Now that I'm settled into my house and have my office set up, I've started to look for part time writing and/or copyediting gigs to supplement my full time customer service job. I think I've found just the thing, too.
Has anyone heard of/browsed Examiner.com? Wouldn't you know it, Allentown is one of the cities featured and looking for writers. If I pick an area of expertise and submit at least 4 articles per week, I might be able to get some exposure, practice, and experience while making a little extra cash on the side. Based on the job listing, this is precisely what I'm looking for. It's a part time jaunt, designed for people who are full time students or holding down full time jobs. As such, it allows its contributors to set their own pace, topics, schedules, etc. Pay is based on visitors to your articles and the volume you generate.
I'm going to marinate on this for a bit and write a few sample articles. Let's see if I can pin down a category that will appeal to me in the long run. Naturally, the first topic that jumped to mind was Religion and Spirituality. There aren't any articles in the Allentown listings about heathenism/Asatru/Odhinnism. So that might be the natural place for me to take the plunge.
Of course, if I could get a zombie category started, that would be superb. But this should be taken one step at a time, I'm sure. But then again, maybe I could be the Zombie Examiner under "Hobbies" or "Home & Living" ("6 Budget-Conscious Ways to Zombie-Proof Your Home").
Food & Drink also appeals to me, but while I love to cook and harbor an overly enthusiastic passion for food, I'm not sure I'd be a great food writer.
Hmn. I should get involved in the Arts & Entertainment category as well so that I can become Allentown's NaNoWriMo Examiner come November. Hell, screw the November limit, I'm obsessed with NaNo year-round, so I should consider that as an area of expertise.
Mmmm, lots of areas to consider, lots of ideas brewing. Yes, this week will find me reading everything in the Examiner.com A&E and R&S categories to get a feel for the site's style and then dashing out some practice articles, indeed. Perhaps I'll post them to
ardeal_foxtale to gauge interest and feedback. In other news, my cat is passed out on the back of the couch with her tongue sticking out. D'awwwww.
- Mood: intrigued
I hear them again, right now, as I type. I can tell from where I sit that they're not coming from my property, but they are close enough that I can feel little vibrations with each strike. Those flesh-eaters are getting downright feisty. And in broad daylight, too!
Pardon me while I go investigate.
- Mood: predatory
Naturally, I love it. I hope it scars. I can't wait to tell people that I have a hit out on me (
dmann88 feeling a little threatened before the Guacamole Cage Match, perhaps?). My valknut pendant keeps getting stuck on the scabby bits. You're welcome for that mental image. In other news, I nearly had a berserker fit last night when I couldn't stop the incessant chirping of the smoke detector in the guest room. The backup battery was dead or dying, and because the whole damn thing is actually hardwired, I couldn't just take it down and turn it off until I could buy batteries. So I had to listen to it squak and bleat once a minute, every minute, ALL BLOODY NIGHT. The acoustics in this house are just bizarre, I've noticed. It's incredibly well insulated, so I can't hear my neighbors on either side, and I hardly hear any street noise. I can barely even hear the doorbell if I'm upstairs (much to the frustration of my friends). But I could hear the chirping of that godforsaken smoke detector all the way down in my living room.
The blasted thing is in the back bedroom on the third floor. I could hear it from the front room on the first floor.
Every. Goddamn. Chirp. Every. Goddamn. Minute.
All. Night. Long.
Even with the guest room door closed, the AC compressor running, the door to the 2nd floor hallway closed, my bedroom door closed most of the way, and my white noise air filter junk thing running at high speed, I COULD STILL HEAR THE CHIRPING. ::twitch::
It was a long night.
So I bought a bulk pack of 9Vs today. There're 8 or 9 smoke detectors in this house, and I will NOT be caught off guard again.
I lugged one of the large and heavy dining room chairs (gorgeous cherrywood pub chairs-- just barely tall enough for me to reach the detector on my 9 foot ceiling) up 2 flights of stairs (the second flight being charmingly steep and narrow), balanced on my tippy toes to change out the battery, and hauled the large and heavy pub chair back down the 2 flights of stairs (did I mention how charming those steep, narrow stairs are? They're especially enjoyable when an assassin cat is running around, waiting to fulfil her contract. . .). Mission accomplished.
When I went back up to the third floor to retrieve the dead battery, I froze in the hallway. For there, watching me from the depths of the library, was a ladder.
Yeah, I forgot about the 7 foot ladder hanging out in the library, waiting for me to finish the painting in there.
But the chirping stopped! I would have relished the unbroken silence, but there was no such silence. I was too busy laughing hysterically at the ladder.
Thus are the adventures I've been having this week.
- Mood: cheerful
Being stupid enough to twist something in my back that shouldn't be twisted while trying to crack my spine: yeah, I have no right to complain.
Going to work while taking muscle relaxers and pain meds: not the brightest move.
Living in a house where pizza delivery is an option for nights when I just don't have it in me to cook: A beautiful luxury. On so many levels. I like this urban living thing.
My cat leaping onto my shoulders and falling, saving herself by lodging her claws into the flesh of my back right at the very moment I start to leave a "happy birthday" voicemail for my mother: not fun for me, but sure to provide precious memories for my mom when she checks her messages.
- Mood:
exhausted
Naturally, the logical conclusion to which I jumped was, "Oh shit, the zombies are trying to break out." And then I caught myself because I remembered I don't have zombies yet. So I thought maybe there were zombies trying to break *in* to the baker's alley. At which point I got angry (and a little scared, I'll admit), because I don't have the zombie warning signs yet, ergo I'm not legally sanctioned to have zombies in the containment room at the moment, and the last thing I want is to be fined and have my zombie hoarding privileges revoked.
As I was heading out to shoo the zombies away from the Bilco door, I realized the noise wasn't coming from my property. So I stopped caring, because if zombies are trying to break in elsewhere, it's not my problem.
True story.
- Mood: predatory
He started at reception. At goddamn miserable concrete reception, where I'd begun to second-guess my life decisions 2 hours after arriving, despite the fact I'm an Army brat who wanted to return home to the world where I felt the most comfortable. I knew better than most what I was getting myself into, and reception is designed to be so damn awful that even I was succumbing to the sheer hell of it in a fairly short period of time. And that's where Colbert started out, right in front of the very same building where I and my company had been herded and sorted and screamed at for hours on end. And then they had shots from the Fit to Win Endurance Course (which happens to be the course where I fell and re-fractured my spine) and Victory Tower. Fuck, I was there, I was on those courses, I was at that reception unit. It's just so weird to see it on TV as part of a skit. And they smoked him, they fucking smoked him, and I screamed when he did the scissor kicks, and so did the majority of the military audience at the auditorium in Iraq.
Yeah, I'm feeling a little nostalgic and sentimental right now. It's been a while since I've seen any pics or shots of Jackson. And yet there he was, on the very courses which I myself had run, not so long ago. Damn.
- Mood: amused
::trying not to panic at the thought of my ramblings of the last 6+ years of my life vanishing for no good reason::
- Mood:
nervous
- 2.5 lbs of chicken cutlets for $7.00
- 1 lb of garlic sausage for $3.00
- 1 lb of bratwurst for $3.00
- 1 lb of tomatoes for $1.50
- 1 dozen bagels for $4.00
- 1 pint of new red potatoes for $2.00
- 1 large bag of baby spinach for $1.75
- 4 bunches of scallions for $1.50
- 1 bunch of asparagus for $1.25
- 1 bunch of broccoli for $1.50
- 1 pint of plums for $2.00
- 1 pint of nectarines for $2.00
- 1 quart of strawberries for $3.00
- 1/2 lb of very fresh mozzarella for $2.50
- 3.5 oz yellow curry for $1.75
Ahh, so much better than Wegman's or Giant.
After seeing some of the burger patties for sale at the one butcher stand, I've decided that I need to buy a grill this summer. They've got burgers mixed with mozzarella, red peppers, sun-dried tomatoes, basil, etc. And if you hit that stand near the end of the day, you can get a few pounds of those burgers for only a few bucks. I'm so happy I could cry. This is such a dream come true for one as food-obsessed as myself.
- Mood:
geeky
Eeeeeeee, it doesn't help that the dress is less than $50 (which means I'd normally snap it up without agonizing) and it's a very limited item (only 12 available? TEASE!), so I have to make a decision very quickly.
Well, I've already made my decision.
I just need to figure out which is worse: being weak and buying this dress a few days after making my 1st mortgage payment ever when I should be conserving funds, or pining away over a supremely awesome and affordable dress that would be so fun for summer and fall, for weekends and Drac's Ball... oh my god, I love the dress so much I'm writing unintentional poetry about it. But while it's currently sitting in the shopping cart, I have not yet hit the checkout button. Rawr.
Maybe I should just swear off of LJ until I've decided to let myself buy stuff for myself instead of for my house. Stupid steampunk communities and their stupid posts showing stupid pictures of their awesome sale stuff.
- Mood: guilty
- I am now officially settled into my house for real now that Verizon finally came out and fixed my phone line. So now I get to use my own wireless connection and not
steal the internethop onto the local unsecured network. I'm greedy, so my network is locked tight.
- I went nuts at the Farmer's Market yesterday and bought a few pounds of produce. Maybe it was because I was overly excited to have fresh food, maybe it was because I was a panicky, frazzled mess, but I became a woman possessed and spent $20+ on fruit and veggies in about 3 minutes flat. That's a lot of produce. But it makes for a lot of home cooked meals, at long last!
- As such, I'm quite eager for dinner tonight. Spicy Thai chicken, forbidden rice, and steamed asparagus finished with garlic bernaise. Kind of an eclectic menu, but I've been hungry for each of those things separately, and am just drunk with glee at present.
- My grandfather is the master of growing tomatoes, and he's got the best dirt EVER for doing just that. He brought a few buckets of his dirt out today for my container garden, which is home now to my very own German Johnson tomato plant. I know nothing about gardening or keeping plants alive, so this ought to be interesting.
- Mina is literally drooling at the sight of the birds hanging out on my balcony right now. This is equal parts hilarious and horrifying. I'm fighting the urge to tie a towel around her neck to catch the drool. Yick.
- I should do something productive like laundry and unpacking, but I'm so blissed out in my office right now that I can't bring myself to leave this room.
- In the last two weeks, I've had more social engagements than I've had in the last two years combined. I definitely like living closer to civilization and to the friends who live in said civilization.
- This is an excruciatingly boring update, but I'm mellow and happy and still have the big, dopey grin plastered to my face, so I'll not apologize.
- All of the signs pictured will be obtained for my basement once I have money for frivolous spending. I'm being overly cautious at present (well, other than the Farmer's Market spree) until I see what my monthly expenses really look like. I don't like having to guess at what my electric and gas and water bills will look like. So until I see some actual numbers, I'm just going to have to be all miserly and dream of the day when I can buy these safety signs.
- Mood: peaceful
- I'm ridiculously tired and so I'm copping out and doing a bullet-point update again. Not like it will do anything to curb my rambliness, though. Hmn.
- So I've been living in my very own Victorian row home for over a week now, and the honeymoon is still going strong. I STILL wander around aimlessly, drifting from room to room with a big dopey grin on my face.
- Now that the humidity has settled in hard and heavy, I'm even more grateful for my central AC than ever. I'm playing it super conservative, though, until I get my first electric bill and get a better idea of what my budget will look like. But still, conservative AC is leagues better than no AC at all. And the central air is more energy efficient than the window units. So yay for that.
- I think tonight I'm going to activate the Level 3 Armed option for my security system. This is the one I've been afraid of what with the motion sensors and all. I need to remember to carry the key fob control upstairs with me so that I can disarm it tomorrow morning before going downstairs. I just pray that the pet filter doohickey works right so that Mina doesn't trip the alarm.
- Neck is all better. Yay! Other guy's insurance company finally called me. Yay! I'm going to have to make time next weekend to get an estimate for my car. Boo!
- Hooray for Mayfair weekend! I went last night, and will be attending again tomorrow. It's not so much the fair itself that I enjoy as it is the tent food served on sticks. There's nothing better than ambling along with a cup of wine in one hand and chicken-on-a-stick or chocolate-covered-strawberries-on-a-stic
k or s'mores-on-a-stick in the other. Oh, and funnel cake. And roasted corn on the cob with cajun seasoning. And ice cream. And sweet potato fries. And Karl Ehmer's bratwurst and potato pancakes. So much for the weight off contest at work. Ha! - The repair tech who was supposed to be out to fix my phone and DSL lines was a no-show not once, but twice. Motherfucker. I found an unsecured wireless network in my neighborhood and after 8 full days of not having internet access and being left hanging TWICE by Verizon techs, I beat my conscience into submission and am currently logged in on a neighbor's network. This is only temporary. I'm giving Verizon one last chance to come out and fix my wiring or jacks or whatever the hell is preventing the dial tone from the service box from reaching the inside of my house. If they decide to skip their repair appointment with me a third time, I'm cancelling and trying my luck elsewhere.
- Much to my surprise, Mina has adjusted to city life much faster than I'd anticipated. She's quite skittish, and she would panic every time the phone rang at my parents' house. Here, she's not so fond of the doorbell (but then again, that makes ME jump, too), but she couldn't care less about the sirens (there's a hospital at the end of our block) or the trucks or the motorcycles. What a relief; I was so worried that she'd be miserable here despite the dozens of windows with wide comfy sills offering stellar views of grapefruit-sized birds and rabbit-sized squirrels. She was upset with the new surroundings for all of 30 minutes on the first day. By the time I went to bed that night, she was pouncing around corners and sprawling out on top of the kitchen cabinets and strutting about all proud-like. And she's made it amply clear that the arm chair in the living room is hers and I'm not to sit there under any circumstances. We'll see about that.
- I'm training a new credit memo rep at work. That brings the PA CM department up to 4 people total. Which means I'm more than ready to secede from my current team and start my own, haha! For about 2 years now my supervisor has said she'd like me to become the CM team lead. It will likely never happen, but that won't stop me from drawing up my plans for a (non?)bloody coup. Heh.
- I'm crushing hard on someone whom I've only seen once. It's been a long, long time since I've had an actual crush on someone, and this is the first time ever that I've been so girly & stupid over someone whom I've never even met. It's kind of weird, I'll be honest with you. I'm the kind of person who develops crushes after getting to know someone-- I'm not a believer in love at first sight, not one bit. So for me to be all twitterpated over someone I saw in the parking lot at the box depot one day is very strange indeed. But Maureen works with him, and she vouches for his character and personality, and so I'm more than a little intrigued. It's been so long since I've felt like this that I've forgotten how fun crushes can be. I'm amused. And dare I admit that I'm hopeful?
- As I mentioned at the start of this post, I'm exhausted. Good night.
- Mood: sleepy
- I'm all moved in to my new house, and I'm exhausted and exhilherated and more in love with that house than ever before.
- Everything is set up except for my internet access since there seems to be a problem with the wiring or some such nonsense in the house. I'm getting a connectivity signal from the Verizon box outside, but all of the jacks inside are dead. A Verizon tech should be out tomorrow night to fix this. I absolutely must try and refrain from mentioning the Zombie Containment Room if he has to go in the basement for any reason. So far, every single utilities person who has come to the house has heard me blurt out something about it, and I really, really need to stop that. Yes, the door leading out to the Baker's Alley is unusual and awesome, and yes, everyone who sees it comments on it and asks where it leads to. I can tell my friends that it leads to the Zombie Containment Room. I cannot tell perfect strangers that it's safe because the zombies have not yet been delivered.
- My neck is considerably better, but it's still a bit stiff and sore. Stupid whiplash. I have yet to hear from the other guy's insurance company. I'm sending one of my agents on their tail today.
- Speaking of agents, I'm over my fear of my security system and now get a kick out of going to my secret hidden panel and punching in codes. It really appeals to my inner assassin. I still don't trust the Level 3 security though; I'm convinced that Mina is going to set off the motion detector. Yes, most motion detectors are set to be triggered by 40 lbs or more, but I'm not willing to take my chances just yet. This weekend, I'll give it a shot.
- Allentown wildlife is quite steroidal. I saw a squirrel in the neighbor's yard which I mistook for a rabbit at first, and there was a brown dove on my balcony that was roughly the size of a grapefruit. Mina is SO not allowed outside under any circumstances. Hell, I'M not sure *I* want to go outside with such massive rodents afoot! Screw gangs and crime rates-- is anyone keeping tabs on the beasties roaming the alleys?
- I have to go punch in for work and be a good little worker bee so I can earn a paycheck to pay my mortgage. Ha!
- Mood: happy
Only made it for 2 hours today. Even with the pain meds & muscle relaxers, I was up half the night from pain & discomfort. Once I got permission to leave work, I went to my car and cried for a good 20 minutes. I'm just so frustrated & so tired of always having to leave work because of my stupid defective body. Fractured vertebrae, endometriosis, melanoma, aftermath of being hit at a red light on top of pre-existing spinal injuries. I know that I really do have it so much better than most people, but still, can I please catch a fucking break medically? Can I just go to work every day & stay there like a normal person? Goddamn, I'm getting tired of this.
I need to focus on the good things. I finally have my Victorian row home, I'm moving into it on Thursday, I have an incredible family & incredible friends. I have a good job and I get to work with people whom I adore. I got to meet my idol and have my picture taken with him. I have the best car ever, and she sustained only minor cosmetic damage in the collision. Things are good. I can stop crying about my stupid defective body any time now.
Off to take a full muscle relaxer. The half pill doses I've been taking don't seem to have any effect. The pain meds are certainly taking their usual toll on my emotions. Fuckers. I really hate crying. Grrrrr.
Posted via LiveJournal.app.
____
"Various sources mention it could be named after the noise foxes make while mating. ('It's the sound you get when you rub two foxes together.')[citation needed]".
No, Wikifur, keep that goddamned citation to yourself.____
Again: "It's the sound you get when you rub two foxes together."
Priceless.
Horrifying. But priceless.
I wonder how one goes about rubbing foxes against one another. Not that I want to try it myself as I'm a bit unsettled by the concept (all facets of said concept, to be sure). But then again, I've often said that I just want to rub my cheek against the top of a fox's head because they look so soft. If me-Fox pets a fox-fox, will that sound be made? I think I just freaked myself out. Oh, I think I need to give in to the muscly-relaxy things and go to sleep.
- Mood:
confused
I took some Motrin last night before bed to try and offset what I thought was the subtle onset of psychosomatic whiplash. Woke up this morning in a world of hellacious pain. My neck was incredibly stiff, and a sharp, persistent ache spread across the back of my neck, my shoulders, and down between my shoulder blades. Ick. So what did I do? I popped some more Motrin and went to work. 'Cuz I'm smart. S-M-R-T.
Two and a half hours later, I was on my way back home. Holy shit, that was a stupid idea to try to go about my normal daily routine. Ow ow ow ow ow. I'm notorious for not going to the doctor unless I ABSOLUTELY have to, and I'm even more stubborn about leaving work/taking a sick day unless I REALLY TRULY ABSOLUTELY have to. An hour and a half after arriving at work, I practically had my doctor's office on the phone as I emailed an early-leave request to my supervisor. Good god, my neck and shoulders were so tense and stiff and the pain was so intense that I was scared into making a doctor's appointment before I'd even finished my morning coffee. Plus, I really need to make sure I'll be in decent condition for the big move on Thursday. Double plus, as
mycorethoughts reminded me, with my history of back problems, I really should see the doc just to be safe. So yeah, I have whiplash. The doc gave me muscle relaxers, so I'm going to pop the 2nd half of my first dose now and go to bed. Fingers crossed that I'm recovered enough tomorrow to go back to work and STAY there. It burns me up that I had to count today's early leave as an "unexcused absence," even with a doctor's note to validate my absence. Grrr grrr grrr, I get rear ended (while stopped at a red light!! WTF?!) and even though I tried to be a good employee and went to work despite waking up with whiplash, I'm getting a big red mark on my record for leaving before 5 hours. Yup, sounds like Mercury is still in retrograde. Fucker.
I'm still amazed at how little damage was done to my GLI. Seriously, the car that smacked into me was pretty messed up, but my car absorbed the shock so well that I don't even have any bruising. Just the whiplash. And as annoyed and as uncomfortable as I am, when I think of the condition of the other car after the fact, I keep marvelling at how it really could have been so much worse. I love my Jetta. I love her even more now than I did before. She's a damn good car, and resiliant as all hell. I'm glad that she'll have her very own little ivy-covered garage in a few days.
And now I'm getting weirdly weepy-eyed & sentimental about my car (moreso than usual, that is), so I think the muscle relaxers are kicking in full force. G'night, all.
(but yay, in 72 hours, I'll be able to update from my new house!)
- Mood: sore
Yeah, I got rear ended at a red light. Motherfucker.
Now, you're all aware of the unhealthy attachment I have to my car. I bought my Jetta GLI with my Army pay, and for 4.5 years, she has my uber baby. I just got her paid off 3 weeks ago, and I just received the title last week. I was outraged a few years back when a long, deep scratch showed up in the back door on the driver's side, and frantic last year when I smashed the rear bumper in a pile of patio stones which had mysteriously been stacked right behind my car in the driveway by some dipshit masons. (I'm STILL angry about that-- they were about 1.5 feet behind my car, and behind the passenger side, and they hadn't been there the night before. They weren't visible when I approached the car from the driver's side, front, nor were they stacked high enough to be visible in any of the mirrors. When I threw my car into reverse and instantly met resistance at the bumper, I thought the neighbor's dog had run over behind me, and I was nearly sick with fear until I saw the pile of stones scattered behind my cracked bumper. Grrrrrr.) So when I got rear-ended today, I braced myself for the worst. Especially because the other car bounced off of my bumper and drifted into the lane beside me, so when I got out of my car and saw that their passenger-side front end was just a shade below being FUBARed, I couldn't decide if I wanted to murder someone or rip my own heart out.
Now, since the day I got my GLI, I've had a Mjollnir pendant hanging from the rear view mirror. Thorr was certainly looking out for me today; the damage to my baby is minimal (at least it's minimal to the naked eye. I've got to bring it in to make sure nothing important was messed up). There's a number of red scratches across the center of the bumper, and a thin crack along the top of the bumper, but really, it's nothing too bad. And I even joked (to myself) that it's a good thing the car which hit me was red, because the red paint matches the GLI badge on the back of my car. It could have been worse-- I could have been hit by a yellow or a teal car or something. At least the damage is color coordinated. Thank the gods for small miracles, yeah? Ugh.
We moved off the road & exchanged info and whatnot. I'm calling my insurance agent tomorrow for instructions & a heads up, and we'll wait for info from the other guy's insurance company. Then I'll go get a new bumper on their dime (yay, I'll no longer have to feel sick to my stomach every time I look at it and see the damage the patio stones had done!).
I'm fine, as far as I know. I'm still amazed that I handled it as well as I did. The other guy was freaked the fuck out (his wife/girlfriend had been driving, and he was flipping out on her, and worried that I was going to flip out on them), but I was pretty calm and took control of the situation. First thing I did before I even looked at my car was ask them if they were okay, and when I saw my bumper and saw the damage was next to nothing (as far as I could see, and especially compared to THEIR car), I took a deep breath and said, "It's okay, it's not that bad, let's move over there and exchange insurance info." If you have to rear-end someone, I'm probably the nicest person to hit, so long as the damage isn't too bad. I was really more concerned that there was no injury to any of us than to the cars, and I tried to reassure them that it was going to be okay, that this is what insurance is for (I think the guy was afraid I'd be a raving lunatic who wanted to sue, and even though I don't know how it's fucking possible todrive right the fuck into a car at a fucking red light, I also know that it could have been so much worse, and since he had insurance, I was thinking, "Yay, new bumper!"). So I lucked out in that there were no injuries and that my precious beloved GLI just has some complimentary red scratches in the back. They lucked out that I keep calm and clear-headed when my adrenaline is surging and that I'm not the kind to fly off the handle or get nasty. But still, fuck. Fuck fuck fuck.
As I told Maureen, I'm not hurt, but of course I'm so damn achy and sore from moving that I could very well be injured and not even know it, haha. Yeah, my neck is a little tight, but I think that could be psychosomatic. I'll probably feel it a bit more tomorrow, but really, it wasn't a huge impact. Meh.
Anyway, official move-in date is Thursday, 14 May. Just a few more days, and I'll be all settled into my new house, with its new doorbell button and its new kitchen sink stoppers. Fingers crossed that I get my GLI's rear bumper replaced quckly and without hassle.
Oy, what a month.
- Mood: sore
A random smear of blood showed up on the wall by the stairs at some point yesterday. I dedicate that house to Odhinn.
While unpacking some old notebooks yesterday, I found the little brown book that had served as my English journal in 4th grade. It was a standard issue military "blue book" style notebook, and it contains all of my creative writing assignments (and illustrations) from that school year. Yes, I still have in my possession the very first stories I EVER wrote. I flipped through it, giggling at the overwhelming number of drawings featuring tombstones, vampires, ghosts, witches, mummies, bats, and decrepit old houses. There's maybe 4-5 pictures of "normal" 8-year-old interests like toys and cats and shit, but the rest of the booklet is full of endearingly creepy crayon art. My mom took a look at it and snorted, commenting on the impact that the Brothers Grimm book (my 1st Christmas present from my parents) had had on me at such a tender age. Hey, she's the one who used to read Poe to me as a tot. I was reciting "Annabel Lee" with her when I was 4. Is it any wonder that when Mrs. Dixon asked us to write a story about a purple house, I wrote about an abandoned (and presumably haunted) house in the middle of a graveyard?
My new house smells like Lavender Vanilla and Pumpkin Spice. While typing that, I realized I have no idea to spell "lavender." It took about 4 attempts before the squiggly red line left me alone. I also realized there's something wedged under the "V" key. Feh.There's a neat old Victorian-style bar around the corner from my house. It was full of octogenerians, though, so it was a little awkward for us to barge in on them. I had no idea how to respond when one of the other patrons started to cough up a lot of phlegm and a long string of pale green mucous. Luckily the sweet, ancient barkeep was on hand to pat the man on the back much the way one would burp an infant. I don't know if I'll be frequenting that little bar, but I was awfully fond of the old stripey wallpaper. Mayhaps I will return some night, dressed in period clothing.
After leaving a busier bar with a younger crowd around 1 last night, we took a stroll through the cemetery a few blocks from my house. A bunny masquerading as a tiny llama in the moonlight led the way for us. We wondered if perhaps it was a zombie bunny leading us into a trap, but then we were distracted by the oddity of a seagull crying in the night. I did not know that there were seagulls in Allentown. And I did not know that they were nocturnal. But aside from the bizarre displays of nature, the boneyard was incredibly peaceful and lovely. It had a good feel, and we didn't really encounter any creepy spots. I think I'm really going to love living in this neighborhood.
( And to close, my memorabilia from Monday's pilgramage )
- Mood: happy
But in the meantime, in the here and now, there are more pressing matters at hand. In 2 weeks I will be moving into my awesome new house. I'm hoping someone gets me this as a housewarming gift. Because no house can possibly be live-in-able without it (which could explain my discontent with my old apartment and with my parents' house. . .). Hee!
Ba da DA da DA da. . . .badadadadada!
- Mood: amused
- Saturday: spent 7 hours cleaning my house and unpacking random items. Started to clean bathroom sink and was shocked to discover the brilliant gleam of the bright copper basin (I'd thought it was supposed to be a rustic "tarnished" dark copper, but it's actually a breathtakingly beautiful bright copper. I'll post a pic once it's finished). Went to Katherine's Casino Night party, stayed there much longer than planned. I was simply having too much fun to leave, exhaustion be damned!
- Today: spent 5 hours cleaning and moving some more. Holy shit, my sinuses are haywire from all of the dust and dirt and pollen which had built up in the house in the last year or so. And Maureen was an invaluable help today in the Contact Paper Experiment. Those pantry shelves didn't stand a chance against us! Oh, and I'm still really sorry about slamming the one shelf into your abdomen. That wasn't part of the plan. Or was it? Lunch on Wednesday is on me. ::sheepish grin::
- Tomorrow: Go to work. Leave work early to drive to Chestertown. Buy Thor's Hammer Vodka from Pip's, buy spirits of Ammonia from Stam's, try not to scream like a fangirl at the Neil Gaiman reading. Drive back to Allentown (hopefully after getting Sandman Vol. 4 signed, and maybe a picture with the man himself). I don't know why I didn't just plan to have the whole day off. It's going to suck getting up at 7 am for work and then getting back home around 3 am. It's even suckier given the sheer exhaustion and insanity from from the last few days. Not to mention the Sinuses of Doom.
- Tuesday: I'm smart to have scheduled this day off from work. I will sleep in and recover from the journey to and from the Eastern Shore. And then I will go to my house shortly after noon to let the carpet cleaners in, and to meet with the locksmith. Go back to my parents' house and start packing things like books and knickknacks and winter clothes.
- Wednesday: Back to work, take a day off from cleaning and packing and unpacking.
- Saturday & Sunday: Paint, clean, move books and clothes and small furniture.
- 14 May: Official moving day. Yay!
So while I'm still angsty over the fact that my house is the only one on the street without the gorgeous oak front door, stained glass, and hand carved banister, at least I know it's because all of those features were lost in a fire and not scrapped by a house flipper who has no appreciation for the Victorian aesthetic. Either way, I'm going to keep an eye out for an old oak exterior door at auctions, and I'll see if Restoration Hardware can possibly obtain one for me. And I'll get some stained glass panels to mount in the front windows. They won't be originals to the house, obviously, but at least I'll have the best of both worlds: old-fashioned beauty with modern comfort. And I have dual zone central air, which more than makes up for the crappy generic stock doors. Hee!
I've also spent the last 2 days geeking out over the perks of city living. For the first time since moving out of my apartment, I enjoyed the luxury of pizza delivery-- and from Papa John's, nonetheless! And when Steve ran out today to buy garbage bags for the courtyard cleanup, he walked to CVS and back in about 10 minutes. [I currently live in the middle of farmland with my parents. Going out to buy ANYTHING turns out to be a 20 minute drive round trip, not counting the time required to park, go in and shop, and check out. Steve managed to walk to CVS, shop, and walk back in 10 minutes. This is majorly exciting to me.] AND AND AND today, I reverted back to 5-years-old and shrieked with joy when I heard the unmistakable jingles of the Good Humor truck! I haven't seen an ice cream truck in YEARS, and the moment I saw the thing cruise past, I ran upstairs to where my mom was priming the dressing room and screamed, "There's ice cream trucks! Did you hear? DID YOU HEAR THE GOOD HUMOR MAN?!" I think THAT'S more exciting than anything else!
Yes, I love my house. I'm very eager to move in.
And even though I'm dead on my feet right now and throughly drained, I'm on pins and needles for tomorrow night. I really can't believe that I'm going to see my idol in the flesh, and that I'm going to see him at WAC. I just hope my friend Joe doesn't mind taking over driving duties on the way home. I just know I'm going to be dangerously tired by the end of the night. But OMGNEILGAIMANYAY!
- Mood: cheerful
Fox Realty.
When my earnest monies were handed to the closing agent by the listing agent, the name at the upper left corner of that check jumped right out at me. I couldn't help it, I had to elbow my mom and point it out. I'm so lame.
Hee!
- Mood: amused
I didn't think it was going to happen today, thanks to the dipshit at the title company working my file. See, the sellers informed us that if we use their title insurance company, they would cover the costs associate with the title transfer. Sweet, that saves me $1,000 off of closing costs, so it was a no-brainer to agree with that offer.
So, apparently the broad assigned to my file is the listing agent's girlfriend. The HUD-1 packet with the tax info had been sent over on the 1st of the month. She and the list agent were on vacation last week (which is why the list agent didn't respond to ANY of my realtor's calls). This past Monday, my realtor gets a call informing him that there's no way we can close on Wednesday because the tax info hadn't been received. He calls her manager and screams at them because the tax info was included with the HUD-1 packet. They call him back and tell him he was right, they had it, the dipshit girlfriend had just misplaced it, but they'd found it. Luckily, I knew nothing about this. I was anxious enough because I STILL hadn't gotten my final numbers for closing, nor had I gotten my monthly payment amount.
Yesterday, I was going nuts waiting to get those numbers because I wanted to get to the bank and get the cashier's check. My realtor tells me he still didn't have them, but he'd have them for me at the walk through at 10 am, and since closing wasn't until 2 pm, I'd have more than enough time to get the cashier's check.
So I'm at the walk through this morning, getting excited, and Tim fills me in on the above information and tells me he STILL didn't have the numbers. Oh, motherfucker, it's 10.30 the day of closing and we have no idea what I have to bring to the table. And if the dipshit was really as incompetent as she sounded, she was going to fuck this up if she was doing it under pressure and in a rush. Awesome.
By 1 pm, one hour before I'm supposed to be at the loan office, I STILL had not gotten my damn numbers. My mom and I were literally sitting in my bank parking lot, waiting for the call so I could just dash inside, get the check, and be on my merry way. I call Tim at 1.15 and ask if we're still on for 2. He tells me the dipshit had made some miscalculations (which confirmed my fears mentioned above), and she was still working on it. But we're still on for 2. He'll call me as soon as he has info. He's furious. I'm tense. Mom is trying to distract herself by reading, convinced that settlement will be rescheduled. I didn't get those bloody numbers until 1.45. Yup, I didn't get my goddamn closing info until 15 minutes before I was supposed to sit down at the table.
And then the bank teller messed up and printed the cashier's check upside down and had to start all over again. I was super patient and nice to him, but I was dying inside.
Somehow, I ended up beating the selling agent and the closing agent. Tim was the only one there when we arrived at the loan office at 2.15. Which is fine since I did NOT want to be the last one there, all flustered and discombobulated and demanding the title agent's head on a stick right in front of her boyfriend.
Closing itself took 30 minutes, no lie. I was shocked when they handed me the key. I'd been signing papers while Mom, Tim, and the listing agent were chatting, and then I gave her the check and she left the room to make some copies. I smiled at everyone and remarked how quickly things were moving, wondering aloud how much longer it would take. The listing agent looked at the table, saw the check wasn't there any more, and asked if I'd given it to the closing agent. "Yup!" I said, beaming. Tim promptly handed me the key. I was not prepared for that. At all. Seriously, I thought settlements lasted for hours. I've heard so many stories, everyone had told me to have a big lunch beforehand because closing is draining, it takes forever, la de da. I seriously refused to believe it had taken me just 30 minutes to finalize the sale. I'm still feeling a little bit cheated. But then again, all of the drama which preceded closing (starting with the sudden competitors bidding against me, and the inspection insanity with the gas company throwing a hissy fit over the holly bush out front, and the fact that I didn't have my goddamn closing numbers and cashier's check until 15 minutes before I was supposed to settle), I suppose it balances out.
Hail the gods, I have a home of my very own. For years, I've dreamed of owning one of Allentown's lovely Victorian row homes, and now I have one which boasts the perfect blend of Victorian style and contemporary comfort. And I have instant equity because I got the house at such an unbelievable price, and the appraisal came in way above the sale price, which was a pleasant surprise. So there was a LOT of frustration involved what with the dramas mentioned above, but in the end it was MORE than worth it. AND I did it on my own, and that means more to me than anything.
Hail the gods, we are home.
- Mood: excited
Of course, it certainly helps to know that so many others have experienced the agony of call center work and have had the same reactions as my own. A little validation always goes a long way.
Pity the phone monkeys, would you?
- Mood: amused
I don't worry about furnaces or leaky pipes or replacing windows. I worry about spiders. And zombies. But mostly spiders. I told John and Melissa that one of them should get me a tiny leaf blower as a house warming gift so that I can blow spiders off of the walls without hurting them. Because as clinically arachnophobic as I am, I don't want to hurt or kill the critters. I totally dig what they do, but the sight of them sends me into a total panic. I'm fine with spiders living in my house and sharing my space, but I absolutely cannot handle seeing them. I've tried to reason with them in the past. The other year, there was a particularly massive specimen hanging out on the wall above my bed one night, and I stood shivering in the hallway, talking to the damn thing. I tried to convince it to at least head towards the south wall, the wall farthest from my bed, but the smug little fucker actually decided to hop onto the headboard. I slept on the couch downstairs that night.
Anyway, I was up until nearly 3 AM last night, eying the spider as it eyed me eight times over. And I started to think about superpowers, for whatever reason. I've always held that if I could have a power, I'd want to be invisible. It's a fox thing, I suppose, the whole ability to observe without being observed. I love to people watch, but I've got this weird paranoia that someone's going to try to talk to me if they notice me hanging out alone in public. But last night, I changed my mind. I decided that if I could have a power, I'd want to be a shapeshifter. That way I could still shift into forms that will allow me to watch unnoticed, but I could also shift into animals and birds and enjoy the strengths and abilities of whatever form I took. Then, I realized, I could shift into a spider, and in doing so perhaps I'd be able to understand the very thing that terrifies me on such a deep and primal level.
Then I thought I felt something tickle my jaw, and I damn near clawed my face off before I realized it was my own hair falling against my neck.
So the day before closing wasn't nearly as drenched with anticipation and excitement as I'd expected. I was so brain-dead that I couldn't even form coherent sentences, much less complete sentences. I kept starting to talk, then just trailing away and sighing about how exhausted I was. Naturally, it was busy as hell at work, so it wasn't like I could take it easy in my zombieriffic condition. But better we be busy at work the day before I buy a house than slow and worrisome. Keep buying boxes, people. I thank you for your business. I have to laugh, I was less-than-thrilled to start that job right after college and the Army. I was supposed to be an officer, fast tracking it to the FBI and serial killer task forces. So the idea of working customer service for a shipping supply company didn't really fit my grandiose dreams. But after a bit of a rough patch, the company's treated me very well, and I'm grateful to be there these days. No, I'm not making a career of it, I still have other plans and other schemes, but right now, I'm incredibly happy to work with people I love (I genuinely enjoy going to work because I truly adore my coworkers and teammates) for a company that's doing pretty well right now, that's secure and solid and giving me the resources to buy my dream house on my own. This job may not be as inspirational as I'd dreamed of for myself when I was in school, but it's given me the means to be independent and self-sufficient in my mid-20s. And so I am happy.
Tomorrow I close. Walk through inspection is at 10, settlement begins at 2. Afterwards, I will go to the house-- my house-- and I will lie down on the hardwood floor and hug it, and then a friend or two from work will come over and we'll order pizza and run around through the house with paint chip color palettes and idiotic grins.
I just hope I don't run into any spiders along the way.
- Mood: happy
- In 36 hours, I will be a homeowner. I'm so overcome with excitement and fear that my brain is simply refusing to cooperate.
- In one week, I will see Neil Gaiman, in the flesh, at Washington College. I thought I was excited about the house. I was wrong. The sheer joy of this once in a lifetime opportunity to see my idol at my alma mater far outweighs the thrill of buying my first house. And I've got reserved tickets, so I will be in the first few rows at the reading. Fuck, I don't know if I'll be able to handle the awesomeness.
- sixxyvonevil has some awe-inspiring stalker-fu. I bow down to her, and I am grateful to her for calming my fears that my target is a bitch-boy for a local uber-Christian band. ::snerk::
- I can't wait to move into my house so that I'll have the room I need to learn and practice the "Thriller" dance.
- When dating men, the first thing most women want to know is what the guy does for a living or whether or not he wants kids. Me, the first thing I want to know would be the details of his zombie apocalypse contingency plan.
- My parents finally got new cell phones. Steve got the Motorola Krave, Mom got the Samsung Glyde. My parents' phones are way more awesome than mine (okay, well, my Mom's is very much like mine in design, but it's got a newer and shinier interface!). But I take comfort in the fact that my Voyager reigns supreme simply because LG didn't fuck with the spelling.
- I need some new LJ icons.
- I'm well on my way to becoming a crazy crow lady.
- The chain on my old pewter valknut pendant has finally broken. I wore it almost daily since I was 19, taking it off only when I wanted to wear my silver valknut pendant (which is maybe once a week or so). The pewter pendant remained 'round my neck while I slept, while I showered, and through the entirety of Army BCT. I'm really quite amazed that the chain has held through so much stress through all of those years. I'm now wearing my silver valknut daily and while I sleep, but I have to remove it while bathing. I either need a new chain for my hardy pewter valknut, or a new pewter valknut necklace. Perhaps I will retire the original pendant. It's served me well for almost 8 years. But then again, it's my first, my original, the one which remained near my heart as it tangled with my dog tags. I'm overly sentimental with stuff like this.
- It's long past time I finally get my valknut tattoo. Having his mark on my flesh will free my neck for a helm of awe or a raven charm or something.
- When I get my valknut tattoo, I need to have the color on my fox tattoo touched up. I've been meaning to get that done for a few years now, but I'm so in love with my little Norse fox that I'm scared that someone would mess it up. But my new house is right by a parlor that has a great reputation, so I'll have to check it out once I'm settled in and take a look at the artists' books.
- Mood: sleepy
I want very much to be a part of such an exhibition. That just looks like the best kind of fun there is. I especially love the way the dancers just grab their bags and scatter at the, back to business as usual, without even acknowledging what just happened. That's exactly how such things should end.
- Mood: happy
Susan Boyle is a 47-year-old unemployed social worker from England. She appeared on "Britain's Got Talent" last week. She isn't much to look at, and while she appeared comfortable on stage in that auditorium, the clip was rife with audience members rolling their eyes at her introduction and flat-out laughing at her when she confessed that she wished to be a professional singer, but she'd never been given the chance. Even the judges are looking 3 shades of skeptical as the music starts. She has decided to sing "I Dreamed a Dream" from Les Mis. Right. Brace yourselves, yeah?
Bloody right you'd better brace yourselves.
She starts to sing. And the laughter stops.
There's a moment of shock, a heartbeat after her first note, and the entire audience leaps to their feet, and they cheer. They cheer long and loud and frenzied, applauding and crying throughout the song. The adoration swells and crashes straight through the finish. Even Simon Cowell is gazing at her like a lovesick pup. I swear, he even heaves a blissful little sigh near the end of the song.
I don't know if it's the triumph of seeing a dowdy old cat-lady proving everyone wrong moments after they all laughed at her and mocked her, or if it's the unbelievable divinity of her voice, or if it's because it's a goddamn sentimental Les Mis song, but I just couldn't stop myself from crying.
I hope she gets a recording contract. And I hope she includes "I Dreamed a Dream" on her album. I've never heard it sound so wonderful.
- Mood:
enthralled
HA! HAHAHAHAHA!
It's done, everything passed with flying colors, and there are only a few minor recommendations, but none of them are really all that important or even necessary. The heating, electrical, and plumbing systems are all pretty new, so no worries there. Yay!
I also got the glorious news that my interest rate is now officially locked in at 5%. ::faints::
Now all I have to do is finish getting my homeowner's insurance policy in place and close on the property!
I've been such a tightly coiled ball of rage, nerves, and stress all week that I hardly know what to do with myself now that the house is really almost mine! I think I'm going to dance around a bit in celebration, have a glass of wine, and then crash. I'm absolutely exhausted from the emotional strain this week has pressed upon me. But I'm deliriously happy that I'm one major step closer to settlement.
In other news, my copy of The Zombie Survival Guide has gone missing. I find this to be very disquieting. I usually keep it on my nightstand, and when I went to retrieve it last night at the request of a coworker, I was surprised to discover it wasn't where I'd left it. I can't find it anywhere. I suspect there's a conspiracy afoot. Well, the joke's on the z-men. I still have my Zombie Survival Guide Flash Cards for studying and reference on the go.
- Mood: ecstatic
Give me one reason why I shouldn't track these people down and force them to play Seven Minutes in Heaven with a horde of zombies.
Anyway, bottom line is the boiler's prepped, the gas is on, the inspector (having cancelled his plans for this week, that blessed, wonderful man) should be out there tomorrow to finish the property inspection, and I have a bag full of holly branches in the backseat of my car. And I'm damn lucky to have a supervisor who let me leave work for an hour in the middle of the morning . . . and a friend who was so willing and eager to become a criminal accomplice (and a ton of other friends who would have jumped at the chance to do a bit of law-bending vigilante justice with me if they'd been given the chance).
Today's update? The inspector couldn't make it out to test the furnace and heating system today.
I think the gods hate me for real.
He's going to be there tomorrow morning at 9.30. So I had to call the gas company AGAIN and beg them to leave the gas on until sometime after noon tomorrow. I've called the gas company 14 times in the last 5 days. I wish I was exaggerating. I think they hate me just as much as I hate them. (<--- The gas company, that is. Not the gods. They may seem to hate me at the moment, but I'm used to their warped sense of humor.)
If I can just make it through this property inspection, everything will be okay. I've just got to make it through this property inspection. . . then it's a mere 20 days until closing. And then I can snap and laugh maniacally for a good 4 days straight.
I keep telling myself that if I survive this, it will make for an excellent book. It will be the first project I work on in my new red office.
- Mood:
irritated
| You Are the Thumb |
 Mentally strong and agile, you do things your own way. And you do them well. You are a natural leader... but also truly a loner. You inspire many but connect with few. You get along well with: The Middle Finger Stay away from: The Pinky |
Sorry, Maureen (aka "Pinky" after the near amputation-by-Mina), guess I can't hang out with you anymore. This internet meme says so.
- Mood: calm
 |
| home |
I got to see the inside of the garage today too, and so help me, I'm even in love with the garage. It's all exposed brick inside, and there's lots of shelving and storage space in there. It will make for a very cozy home for my beloved GLI. As mentioned before, my parents are on vacation, so I've been using the garage, and I admit I absolutely love it for one odd little reason: when I shut the engine off in an enclosed area, I can hear the turbo spooling down, and it's the most awesome, hardcore shit ever. I really do have an unhealthy obsession with my car. I'm glad that she'll have a sweet garage of her very own soon. The exterior is painted to match the house itself, and it's got climbing ivy on it, and I'm about 83 kinds of geeked out right now. Oh, there was a little touch of graffiti inside the garage. Apparently "Big Rig" and "Jello" have been there. ::snerk::
The inspection was a success, aside from the fact the plumber fucked up and only did half of what I'd asked him to do. See, the house was winterized back in October, so I had a plumber go out on Wednesday to dewinterize it. I specifically told the plumbing company that I needed the boiler and furnace prepped, too, because I had the gas company coming out on Friday to restore service for the property inspection on Saturday. We get there today, and the water's on, no leaks anywhere, yay. But the boiler had NOT been filled, and none of the lines had been bled, so the inspector couldn't test the heating system or do anything at all with the furnace. Ooooh, I was pissed. I called the plumber, but of course they're not open on Saturdays. So I left a message that boils down to me going "WTF?!" since I was so shocked that they really didn't do ANYTHING I'd asked of them, and I'd been so explicitly clear about what needed to be done and WHY. I wasn't bitchy or anything, but I made it clear I was disappointed and frustrated, especially since I have to get the inspector to come out AGAIN on Monday or Tuesday to test the furnace after the plumber comes back out to do what he should have done on Wednesday. Argle bargle. Whatever, welcome to the world of homeownership.
Anyway, everything else was perfect. The only things the inspector pointed out to me were 3 very minor cosmetic issues (oh no, there are surface cracks on the garage floor, the deal is off!), and he recommends I get the roof resealed before winter (it's an aluminum roof, and they've got to be sealed every 2-3 years anyway, so it's due). Other than that, the property is in spectacular condition. The previous owners really took excellent care of the place, and they updated everything (and I mean EVERYTHING) within the last 5 years, so this place has got an incredible blend of Victorian style and contemporary comfort. I'm quite a lot more excited now than I was before.
I was so comfortable wandering around the house this morning. Not only does it have wonderful features and a wonderful location, it has a very distinct comforting "home" vibe to it. It already feels like home. I was so comfortable and relaxed and happy while I was there, and I know that I'll be very comfortable and secure alone at night. It just feels so very right. It feels like my home. And soon, it will be. Inspection is done, the appraisal will be handed in on Tuesday, things are rolling along at a nice clip, but I still can't get excited until 22 April. That's the day I'll sign paperwork until my hand stiffens into an unsightly claw, and it's the day the keys will be dropped into my poor aching paws. That's when I can get truly excited. Until then, I have to remain calm and mellow.
Oh, I should have taken pictures of the baker's alley. There's a picture in the gallery labeled "Batcave escape hatch." The door in that picture leads to a little secret alley that runs from front to back, closed off in the backyard by a Bilco door and in the front by a trapdoor under the porch. I'm going to have the Bilco doors and the trapdoor sealed up for security reasons, for keeping mice out, and for reducing heating costs. Once the ends are sealed, the baker's alley will make for an excellent zombie holding room. It's not really a part of the house, but it's completely enclosed by concrete, and I can keep a few zombies in there without bothering anyone. (Yes, I used to be terrified of the living dead, but I've recently come to the conclusion that having one or two z-men around could come in handy. I just need to stock up on some spiffy bite-proof suits first.) Neat!
Oh, and there used to be a dumbwaiter in the house! The inspector found the elevator shaft and the gear system in the basement! How AWESOME is that?! I might have to bring a contractor in sometime down the road and have him unseal it, just because it will be fun to have a dumbwaiter. How very Victorian, indeed!
Closing is 3 weeks away!
- Mood: ecstatic
Anyway, as aggressive as she is, she's throughly apathetic where food is concerned. She takes the "fickle kitty" stereotype to levels beyond human ken. And she absolutely abhors "people food." Even when we try to feed her scraps of flounder and chicken, she looks deeply affronted and insulted. Which is really quite nice, because it means she doesn't beg or climb all over us when we're eating.
Tonight, however, I've discovered it's not so much the people food itself that she dislikes. Apparently we simply haven't been preparing it to her liking.
I decided to make some curry chicken salad tonight, so I roasted some chicken breast with garlic olive oil, garlic salt, and freshly ground black pepper. As I was slicing it up, Mina came running, and she popped up onto her hind legs and began to tug furiously at my shirt. I'm a known sucker for her earnest Tom Kitten eyes, and so I gave her a little nibble of the chicken. I fully expected her to sniff it and walk away as usual, knowing that she usually just wants to see what I'm up to and doesn't actually want to eat my food. But amazingly enough, she gobbled it down, then started dancing on her hind legs again. Amused, I gave her another piece, a little bigger this time. Again, she devoured it and looked up for more. I was flattered, congratulating myself on roasting quite the tasty chicken, but refused to give her any more. I don't want to encourage this kind of begging, and I don't want her to get in the habit of eating people food. So I dumped it into a bowl and tossed it in the fridge to cool off.
Mina promptly started to attack the fridge. My parents have one o' them fancy French door fridges with the freezer on the bottom, and she was on her hind legs, forearms wrapped around the freezer handle, clawing at the side of the door. She was practically flinging herself at the fridge, trying to get to that glorious treasure within. This was a first, and I really had no idea how to react.
Ten minutes elapsed, and I opened the fridge to stir the chicken bits to make sure they all cooled down quickly, and the little beast actually knocked me aside as she took a flying leap into the fridge. I grabbed her since gods know the last place a cat belongs is inside a refrigerator with my food, and she just snapped. So now I've got some fresh wounds to compliment the bevy of scars on my arms, but that's fine. I've also got some incredibly delicious curry chicken salad. I really don't blame Mina for getting all cracked out on my chicken. I tend to get cracked out over my own cooking, too. I'm just that damn good.
Thankfully, she doesn't like curry, onions, apples, or pecans, so ultimately, my dinner is safe. She's giving me evil looks from her window sill as she watches me enjoy my meal.
Yum.
Edited to add: That was, hands down, the best chicken salad I've EVER had -- curried or otherwise. I'm even more blissed out tonight than I was last night after inhaling 2 servings of avocado glazed chicken. I love having the kitchen to myself. I can't wait to move into my house in May so that I can actually cook for myself on a regular basis. ::happy::
- Mood: hungry
- I think Saturday's Drac's Ball was the best yet, and I'm not just saying that because of the generous servings of vodka provided by the bartenders that night. Or because Maureen, JT, and I claimed the coveted couch in the alcove at the foot of the stairs. Or because I was able to talk to strangers without freaking out (though I was annoying and dippy in my quest to figure out if the newsie was there with a girl or if he was safe for me to ogle. I had kind of a steampunked newsie thing going on myself, so he and I would have looked like quite the pair. But I'm a spazz, and when his friend called him over to us, I clamed up real damn fast. Hee, I'm hopeless. But at least I didn't scream "STRANGER DANGER" like I practically did that time a guy tried to talk to me at the New Year's Eve Drac's Ball... XD ). Or maybe it was a combination of those things and more. I don't know, it was the best night at the Ball I've had since my very first one (yay Chris, Jon, and Heather!). Though the distinct downer of the night was the camera crew bugging us despite our best efforts to be really boring and utter wastes of airtime. That was the one downside to setting up camp in the alcove; when the documentary crew came by, they penned us in, and we had no means of escape. I mean, I know we looked fabulous and all, but really, we were there to get away from our adoring public. Damn paparazzi.
- So yesterday's post recounting the chat Mom and I had had about my thinking all weird noises are to be blamed on zombies? Yeah, I was home alone last night. I had very few lights on, and I was reading. And I heard a noise. And I refused to look up from my book because I'd immediately convinced myself that if I did, I'd see a living corpse pressing his face against the deck door, one hand clawing at the glass as his empty gaze bore into my very soul. Or something like that. When I laughed about it at work today, John tried to reassure me that I'll be safer in the city since he tends to associate zombies with rural areas. I let loose a rueful chuckle and told him that kind of reasoning was going to cost him in the zombie apocalypse. We all know cities are far more dangerous, what with the higher concentration of people and the lighting-quick speed with which the plague will spread. Poor John. He won't stand a chance.
- The property inspection and the FHA appraisal are both scheduled for this Saturday. Fingers crossed!
- I've decided I'm going to be a crazy crow lady. I want the tree in the little courtyard to become home to a murder of crows. The neighbors will hate me, I'm sure, but I think it would be nice to have a few crows follow me around once I've won their trust and affection with peanuts, bread, and cat food. Plus, I'm sure they'd swoop in and protect me if zombies do strike. It's always a good idea to befriend a flock of carrion-eaters. And after seeing the video of the crow who adopted that little kitten, I'm sure Mina will get along fabulously with my new friends. I don't know about Stevie Nicks or the gnome-ish guy who goes mushroom hunting in a tuxedo, but they'll just have to deal. Crows make me incredibly happy, and I just hope there are as many around my new house as there are here at my parents' house. If there aren't, I might just have to kidnap some of these here country crows. We'll see how that works out.
- One of these days, I'm going to get myself off to bed at a decent hour.
- After looking at my icon, I was struck yet again at the ways all of my obsessions tie in together so well.
- I may as well close this post with a glimpse of Drac's Ball goodness:
No wonder the camera crew wouldn't leave us alone.
And the best shot of the night, if only because Maureen looks so happy and sweet as she chokes the life out of her husband:
D'awwwwwww!
- Mood: sleepy
Me: Psh, of course. I've lived alone before, it'll be fine.
Mom: I don't know. What happens if you hear a weird noise at night?
Me: Mom, really, it'll be okay. Remember the roofer? I don't get scared at the thought of robbers and stuff, I get angry because I think it's a zombie making the noise.
Mom: Yeah, I know. That's exactly my point.
Me: Oh. Right. Nah, I'll be fine. I'll have ADT. It'll deter robbers and alert me to zombies, so all bases will be covered.
Mom: That makes me feel so much better.
This happy little lawn gnome is from the following tome of wisdom and inspiration:
He just looks so happy with his tux and his trumpet and his fungus. He'll add just the right touch of joviality to my courtyard.
Okay, I lied about the last part. I'm not even remotely what you call a "morning person," and I'd likely get really pissed at the B&N employees when they showed up to open the store because I'm sure they'll be opening before, oh, 1:30 PM. Well, that, and I kind of have to be at work on the 8th. So maybe I'll just preorder from Amazon. That way I'll still have it the day it comes out, but I won't have to get all bitey so early in the morning. Ruh.
Recap of why April is awesome:
at 
and
and also
!
Okay, so maybe springtime isn't as evil as I usually make it out to be.
- Mood: excited
- Mood:
blank
Anyway, most of you know I'm fascinated by numerology thanks to my deep-seated superstitions concerning numbers. While playing around online during a break today, I stumbled across an "address analyzer." I responded with an actual barking shriek of a laugh when I read the results for the house I'm buying:
"This is a number 7 address. The most unconventional address in all respects. Good for single adults; alone but not lonely. Inspires spiritual growth but abhors conventional organized religion. Inspires depth of thought, reading, contemplation and perhaps even meditation. Serious and often pushing one to become a bit more introvert, this address is my personal favorite. Just as only an artist knows the bliss of breaking through to create a truly great piece, only the seven knows the ecstasy of a truly spiritual realization. If all churches, mosques, and synagogues were located at number 7 addresses the world would be a better place. Those who like to keep things light and superficial tend to find little happiness in this location."
Knowing that online "numerology" things are to be taken with about a metric ton of salt, I was surprised that the result for my soon-to-be new address actually matches up perfectly with the plans I've got for this place, what with the dedicated library and the writing office and the hof/meditation/worship space I've got planned out. Granted, 3 and 9 are my numbers, but in this case, I think 7 will inspire quite a lot of happiness, growth, and success. Still taking this "analysis" at pure entertainment value, but let me tell you, I'm pretty damn amused at the result.
On a completely unrelated note, I received a surprise from Josten's in the mail today. Apparently my Washington College ring purchase qualified for a free iTunes gift card (I'd thought that particular promo ended on 31 December, and I didn't order my ring until January). Does anyone have any recommendations for new music you think I should check out? I tend to listen to a lot of Joy Division, Abney Park, the Strokes, Metallica (though I haven't listened to anything past the Black Album, excepting a few songs each from Load and Reload, and that 1 new song from S&M), My Chemical Romance (I love their music & their humor, shut up. Hahaha, now you must deal with the Gee!Cat iconage!), Theatre of Tragedy, the Cruxshadows, Black Sabbath, John5, Therion, Lacuna Coil, Bella Morte, The Shroud, Marilyn Manson, The Smiths, Rasputina, and so on. I also dabble in pop-pier stuff like Kate Nash and the Killers and the Fray when I hear a song that grabs me. So help me expand and explore - name some contagious songs that have infected you. I live under a rock (listen to my iPod and sometimes Pandora; I almost never listen to the radio, nor do I have any idea what's big these days. Durn kids. . .), so name songs that you love even if they're dying from overexposure.
'Tis the season to hoard Cadbury Mini Eggs.
- Mood: chipper
Recap of the past week:
Sunday - See The House. Fall in love with The House. Tim calls the listing agent to tell him he has a buyer.
Monday - Get preapproved.
Tuesday - Make an offer.
Wednesday - Find out there will be TWO other buyers making offers this week.
Thursday - Amend my offer slightly so that I can rest assured that I've done the absolute very best that I can.
Friday - Freak out as I get a notice that an inquiry has been made on my credit report. OHMYGOD THE BANK IS CONSIDERING MY OFFER!!! ::flail::
Friday night - Drink coffee vodka and Bailey's in a feeble attempt to relax and distract myself from the impending verdict on my offer.
Saturday - Drink sangria at Katherine and Cassie's new place in a feeble attempt to relax and distract myself from the impending verdict on my offer.
Sunday - Drink copious amounts of coffee and start a fresh search for listings that might be worth seeing should my offer be rejected in favor of one of the other bids.
Monday morning - Try not to think about it. Cassie texts me to tell me Tim is miserable today. I try to convince her to buy him a Happy Meal on me and cross my fingers in the hopes that he's not miserable because he doesn't want to deliver the bad news. Resist telling her to give him a hug for me. Haha.
Later Monday morning - Receive text from Cassie . "Call Tim." Spontaneously combust.
So I call Tim. Try to sound cheerful, but my voice wavers as I say, "Hey, hope you have some good news for me."
A sigh on the other end of the line. "Well," he says softly, his voice barely audible over the din of the printers in the background. He sighs deeply, and I can picture him drawing his hand across his brow, rubbing his eyes. "They accepted your offer."
My knees lock up. "Wait, I don't think I heard you," I said carefully, my brain seizing in the attempt to reconcile the melancholy tone of his voice with the actual words he spoke. "Can you please repeat that?"
A chuckle, the chuckle he probably enjoys each and every time he goes through this routine. "They accepted your offer. You gotta come down this week to sign some paperwork, and we'll schedule the inspection and get this ball rolling."
I freeze, and I'm remarkably calm. "Oh, oh that's awesome! Really? Great, yeah, just let me know when you want me to show up and I'll be there. Okay, wow, my offer. Mine!" The more I spoke, the more it sank in, and the crazier I got. I started to giggle and dance and bob about, and I ended up jumping around-- actually pogoing up and down like a cracked out kangaroo (and in heels!), my back be damned! After calling my mom with the news, I actually ran a victory lap around the office. It took a few hours for the endorphins to settle down and allow the true piercing agony of the pain in my back from moving like that, but it was worth it. Oh god, the pain was exquisite towards the end of the day, but it was so worth it!
Oh my god, they accepted my offer. That house, that glorious Victorian masterpiece in the best part of Allentown, with the garage and the central air and the built in bookcases and the hammered copper and marble sink and the courtyard and the red writing office and the angled hallway and the bay windows and the hardwood floors and the huge kitchen and the hanging pot rack and the finished basement and the built in cabinetry and the holly bush and the arched windows and the brickwork and the absolute awesomeness that I can't wait to call home! That house, the one on the block capped with a comic book store (complete with Batman mural on the wall facing the cross street!) and a block from the Farmer's Market and 2 blocks from a boneyard and around the corner from an awesome coffeehouse and down the block from a large gothic stone church with red doors and just settled into a wonderful and safe neighborhood that I can't wait to call home! THEY ACCEPTED MY OFFER! I'm still in a state of shock and disbelief. I really didn't think I'd win this one. I was seriously trying to put together a list of houses to look at next week, just in case. BUT THEY ACCEPTED! I WON THE BID! I GE
It's happening, at long last. I'm going to be a homeowner. I'm going to have my very own house. And it's a house I fucking love.
I'm trying not to get too excited because there's still a lot to do between now and closing (22 April, baby! EEEEEEEEE!), but in my mind, the hardest part is over. I won the bid. The rest of the steps will be expensive as all hell, but not nearly as stressful as this past week has been. But even so, I'm already looking forward to moving, to cleaning, to having an open house/house warming party to let friends and family come by, see where I am, give tours of my 3 story (4 if you count the fully finished basement), 5 bedroom, 1.5 bath Victorian row home! I can't wait to host game nights, to have friends over for dinner and movies, for sitting down to write in my office, for curling up to relax in my library, to sit on the 2nd floor balcony with a glass of wine at sunset and watch the bat(s) emerge from the bat house I'd like to get, to host old friends from out of state (hint, hint).
But I'm getting a little ahead of myself. My offer was accepted, but I don't have the keys in my hand just yet. First things first, schedule the property inspection and the FHA appraisal this week. But I'm closer to realizing this dream than I've ever been before. I'm downright delirious with joy, and I'm enjoying this moment for as long as I can.
My first house. My god. I'm going to be a homeowner.
I want to go to that house (soon to be MY HOUSE) right now and camp out on the porch.
- Mood: ecstatic
Today I spoke with my realtor and found out that there are going to be 2 other offers submitted this week.
Seriously?
My head is awhirl with conflicting thoughts and emotions. On the one hand, I fully expected to have a little competition. After all, the house is perfect, in a prime location, and has a jaw-droppingly low price given the features and condition and neighborhood. That's why I'd been so anxious since I saw it on Sunday (and, let's be honest, I was anxious before I saw it in person. The moment it came on the market last Monday, I pounced on it. It was just a feeling that I had about the place). So yes, I was bracing myself for a touch of competition. But TWO? And they came out of NOWHERE. Feh.
( Lots of babble. It's not like I've been examining various angles of this situation all day or anything. . . )
I'm not getting into a bidding war because I can't afford to for reasons explained above. But I am bracing myself for a skirmish at the very least. I'm not about to just throw my hands up and panic. I want this house. Don't make me throw a tantrum about how I saw it first.
I'm trying to be pragmatic about it, too. It is what it is, and my offer is in, my offer is solid, and I'm not changing my offer one bit. It's got to be a much better offer than the bank was expecting. And again, I'm really fucking qualified, I'm preapproved, and my earnest money is double the normal amount. BUT, if the worst comes to pass and I lose this bid, then I have to look at it this way: it will just give me more time to save more money and look for a house that offers seller's assist. Now, what are the odds of finding another perfect house with a garage and central air and built in bookcases, etc, in a wonderful neighborhood within my price range? Not very high. But if I found one, I may be able to find another. But then again, I'll probably feel pressured since a preapproval is only good for 30 days, and every time I get approved, my credit score takes a hit. But again again, March and April are when the most houses come on the market, so my selection might improve dramatically over what I've been looking at the last 2 months. But then yet again again again, who's really going to put their houses up in this kind of market? Grrr. I have to be mature about this.
::whine:: But I want THIS one! I SAW IT FIRST! >: P
Yeah, time to break out the voudou dolls and chicken blood.
Happy thoughts, folks. Happy thoughts. These other two bidders ain't got nothing on me.
- Mood: nervous
I'm not so much scared as I'm terrifyingly calm. Or perhaps calmly terrified is the more appropriate description.
I think I'm just so nervous because this house is bank owned, so there's no seller's assist. So the closing costs are going to smart a bit. It figures that the perfect house is being sold without any seller's assist. Ah, well. Once closing is done and all of those checks have been signed, it will be more than worth it.
I should find out whether or not the offer has been accepted by Thursday or Friday. There's no reason why it wouldn't be. But I'm still nervous.
I'm absolutely exhausted. On top of having been sick last week and over the weekend, the last 3 days have been wrought with nervous energy and euphoria and fear and giddiness. I'm going to make a bowl of guacamole for a "farewell" potluck tomorrow, and then I'm going to crash. Though, knowing me, while I'm barely keeping my eyes open now, once my head hits that pillow my brain is going to explode with all of the fears and worries that come with huge commitments, financial or otherwise.
I have a good feeling about all of this. There's been something about that house ever since I saw it the day I was at the house across the street from it. Even though the listing itself seemed ominous (after all, I'd passed over many listings that were better than this one), I still wanted to see it, and I was *excited* to see it. I was genuinely eager to visit this place, even though I was bracing myself for the absolute worst.
It would be neat if it was haunted, but only if the ghost and I get along.
Wow. I'm going to buy a house. Such a special thing when dreams come true. I wish I wasn't so wiped out. But then again, I suppose I'll be able to appreciate this more once the offer's accepted, the inspection is done, and closing has ended with the keys in my hand. So for now, I'll make some guacamole and try to get some sleep.
I hope the offer is accepted.
- Mood: exhausted
Then I saw this new house today. And everything changed.
( Warning: zillions of pictures lurk beneath this cut )
This house is certainly much better than I had even hoped for. I'm seriously sitting here, expecting Tim to call me and tell me there was a mistake, that they forgot a 0 when they listed the price or something. Please please please let this work out for me.
As Tim drove away, he was calling the selling agent to let him know that an offer would be made on Tuesday by a very serious buyer. I'm getting preapproved tomorrow, and we're putting the offer in on Tues. The house didn't grab me by the balls immediately the way Claw House did, but the more I saw and the more I walked around, I could visualize myself there. I've looked at a total of 12 houses, and of those 12, Claw House and this house were the only ones in which I felt at home, the only ones I could see myself in. And in this one, I took a walk through it completely alone, and I imagined myself going through my morning routines and nightly routines and traced the paths I would take, and I just loved what I saw and what I felt, and I came back downstairs and admitted that I couldn't find a single flaw, a single negative point. This house is meant for me, I can feel it. I mean, come on: central air (I didn't even know those old row homes could be retrofitted for that! Single family homes, yes, but a row home?!), garage, huge kitchen, space for an office AND a dedicated library, arched windows, a layout that will compliment my dining room table rather than make it look awkward, that bathroom sink (and the bathroom cabinets! My C.O. Bigelow stuff would look so awesome on those shelves. So very Victorian!). The Farmer's Market, the comic book store with its Batman mural, the boneyard, the price. . . .
Fingers crossed, please! I'm nervous about putting the offer in. Pray that no one else jumps in, pray that it's accepted this week! Pray, hope, wish, dance nekkid in the sleet, do whatever it takes, but please send some positive "welcome home" juju my way! I will reward you all with elaborate dinner parties and excursions to the Great Allentown Fair and I'll have plenty of guest beds and futons for you out-of-staters!
- Mood: euphoric
I'm getting preapproved tomorrow and we're going to put my offer in on Tuesday.
I'm still in an absolute state of shock. I want to be excited. I want to run around and scream and do cartwheels and play with fireworks, but I'm afraid to get too into this too soon. After all, I need to get preapproved first. And then the seller needs to actually accept my offer. And then it needs to pass inspection. And then I need to recover from the dead faint that I will experience when the house is mine. If it gets that far.
I'm in the process of uploading a zillion pictures. I will post them shortly with details about why I've so readily forsaken Claw House. Yes, there are some features which I will have to sacrifice, but the gains more than make up for them. And those features I'm sacrificing? I can easily obtain them myself. There's no claw foot tub, but I can always buy one. So worth it. My gods, so worth it.
Fingers crossed, please. I'm requesting some good juju from everyone that my offer is accepted and that everything goes well.
::squee!::
This definitely calls for Kitty!Gee. Such is my exaltation.
- Mood: ecstatic
Heh.
One thing I loved about that neighborhood is its proximity to the Allentown Fairgrounds and Farmer's Market. Granted, life will suck for that one week at the end of summer when the Great Allentown Fair is drawing crowds and concerts, but whatever, that house has a garage, so I wouldn't have to fight for parking. And no matter where I end up in Allentown, I plan on becoming a regular at the Farmer's Market since I'm such a veggie addict (and they have a butcher there who sells the most delectable fresh bratwurst!). This house is within walking distance (my concept of "walking distance" does differ from most people's, what with my back and all. So when I consider it to be within walking distance, that means it's a truly convenient and perfect location). Hurrah on that point.
And what lies just beyond the fairgrounds? A cemetery. I big, sprawling, lovely boneyard. It's a modern boneyard, not quite as idyllic as the one surrounding the first house I'd visited, but it's a very well kept, charming cemetery in its own right. It's actually a Catholic cemetery, the one belonging to the Cathedral of St. Catherine of Siena. . . which is the Church to which I belonged when I was in middle school and high school. Yeah, the house I'm looking at is just a few blocks from where I went to school from grades 5-8. But seriously, it's a great neighborhood, and I've always loved the Cathedral (it's got one of those grand old gothic stone facades. Very humbling and intimidating and so very Classically Catholic).
Another bonus? I learned today that there's a comic book store on the end of the block that this house is on. A comic book store. And I'm told this comic book store is owned by an "angry midget."
If this house has a claw foot tub, I'm sold.
Okay, so pros and cons.
Claw House:
+EVERYTHING
+Arched windows in my library
+Extraordinary starcase
+Awesome crazy bizarre angled hallway on the 2nd floor
+Claw foot tub in an adorable bathroom
+Cute little kitchen
-On street parking only
-Not a lot of counter space in said cute little kitchen (bad news for someone who cooks elaborate meals like myself)
-Old wiring, outlets aren't grounded on 3rd floor
-Overpriced
Contender House:
+Gorgeous exterior (including arched windows)
+Garage
+Central air
+Garage
+Hardwood floors in living room and dining room
+Garage
+Walking distance to Farmer's Market
+Garage
+Comic book store a few doors down
+Garage
+Said comic book store is owned by an "angry midget"
+Central air
+Great price
+There's a boneyard nearby
+Garage and central air
-Haven't seen the interior, no idea what condition the house is in or what it looks like.
I'm eager to see what happens this weekend. I want to live by a comic book shop. I won't have any money to indulge my geekery after I buy a house, but I want to live by a comic book shop! ANGRY MIDGET!
- Mood: contemplative
Can I have it, pretty please?
(why, yes, Cake Wrecks is a new favorite of mine. . .)
- Mood: relaxed
Now, I'm such a regular there that everyone working the drive thru is on a first name basis with me. Not a one of them needs to ask me if I'd like any ketchup or mayo-- they know exactly what I like with each menu item and include it in the bag without asking. They're all awesome and friendly and totally on top of things. In fact, I even remember one instance when they mixed up the drinks and gave me a sweet tea instead of my Coke-- a mistake I didn't discover until after I'd returned to work. Ah, well, no biggie. When I went back 3 days later (the lure is strong, too strong to resist!), the girl at the window asked me, "Hey, did we give you the wrong stuff the other day?" She gave me coupons for free chicken nuggets to make up for it, even though I told her repeatedly that it was no biggie, I didn't mind. That's how awesome Chick-Fil-A's staff is, and that just goes to show you I might possibly go there way too often.
Anyway, I've been kind of dorking out the last few weeks; gone from the window is the awesome girl who had a frighteningly accurate memory. In her place is a really super cute guy. Who has grown friendlier with me over the last 2 weeks or so. And me being me, I'm somehow afraid he's going to think I'm a stalker since I'm there so often. Dude, honestly, it's the food. You're really cute and nice and awesome and stuff, but I'm there for the food, not for you. I promise.
But I think I have a slight crush on him now. I think I've got one of those transference things going on in my brain. See, this attractive, friendly guy provides me with my precious chikin, so it's only natural that I associate happy yummy feelings with him. I'm giddy when I see him, but only because I know he's about to hand me my food. It's a chikin crush.
I'm not a stalker. I just really need mor chikin.
- Mood: hungry
- Stayed up way past my bed time watching the Oscars last night, and I can't for the life of me explain why I did so. I don't go to movies all that much any more, and the only movie up for awards that I'd seen was The Dark Knight. But I was bored and wanted some background noise while I looked at non-scuttly-legged desks and couches and refrigerators online. Somehow, I got sucked in. Kinda glad I did; I had a rather spazzy moment when Christopher Walken's acceptance of his Oscar for The Deer Hunter started off the montage for the supporting actor category. Said spazzy moment devolved into a full blown mess of a fangirl attack when he actually appeared on stage in the mummified flesh. Heeeeee!
- My college ring finally arrived! It's so perfect! I'm definitely glad I waited to get one; my small silver/plantinum ring is far more lovely and *me* than those massive yellow gold beasts that were available my senior year. This ring is the perfect size for my hand, so it looks elegant rather than clunky. I'm extremely happy with it, and I absolutely cannot wait to show it off at work tomorrow. Perhaps I should refrain from flashing at our HR recruiter, though-- he went to Salisbury. Ha! To this day, I can't get over the fact that I work in a relatively small office in the Lehigh Valley (Penn State country; out of state schools so don't count) with someone who went to our rival college. Small, small world. Anyway, yay ring! Now I've got Middle Hall with me always. ::happy sigh::
- I took a stroll in Allentown tonight after work. When I first saw Claw House earlier this month, I thought it was a nice neighborhood, and I felt comfortable and at ease there. However, a bright Sunday morning with my mom and a 6'1"/6'2" realtor is a different beast than walking to my door at night after work alone. So I popped on over tonight to make sure I liked the neighborhood at night as much as I did during the day. Which I do. I wandered around for about 20 minutes, circling the block, cutting through alleys after scoping things out, then hanging out for a bit on the porch of Claw House and just watching traffic on one of the cross streets. It was a very quiet neighborhood (or at least, it was a very quiet night), and I felt secure and confident wandering around alone. Always a good sign. So I've emailed my realtor to request another showing of that house.
- I did find another listing that has captured my attention, though. It's in an even nicer part of town, listed at a much lower price, and it has a garage and central air (which shocked me-- I didn't think any of those turn of the century row homes even had the capacity for central air!). So I've asked Tim to set up a showing for that house as well. It's certainly got a stunning exterior:
It's got the arched windows on the 3rd floor like Claw House, which I've decided are so essential to my library. I really love the way the trim is painted, too. And dude, it's got a garage. And it's listed at a competitive price (unlike Claw House). I've looked at 9 houses after seeing Claw House, and this one pictured here is the first one I'm actually eager to see. This is the first listing to capture my attention the way the one for Claw House did, so I'm already twisting up with anticipation to see how it compares. House hunting just got fun again! If it has weirdly angled hallway and a claw foot tub, I might have to pounce on this one.
- Mood:
bouncy
As such, I'm fixated on looking for a good desk. I plan on getting a nice sturdy antique desk at auction after I actually buy a house, but I've been poking around online to get a better idea of the style I'd prefer. Tonight, I found myself studying this picture of a writing desk:
At first I adored it, but the longer I stared at it, the more anxious I became. I finally realized the shape of the legs absolutely freaked me out. I have somehow convinced myself that the desk looks as though it's ready to scuttle away the moment my attention is diverted elsewhere. Ew.
Somehow, this fear doesn't transfer over to claw foot tubs. Maybe that's because I can't picture such a squat, heavy thing as a bath tub scuttling anywhere (indeed, we all know and love the sight of the claw footed tub waddling about in The Nightmare Before Christmas-- it's movement is simply adorable, and I wouldn't mind my hypothetical claw foot tub carrying me around the house like that. As long as it doesn't damage the wood trim mounted to the corners in that angled hallway, that is. . .). Granted, one could be made nervous by the apparent sharpness of the talons gripping the porcelain globes on each leg, but even imaginations of the tub attacking me don't make me as uneasy as the apparent readiness of that writing desk to take off in a mad chase around the house.
Note to self: look for a heavy desk with short, squat legs designed for waddling rather than long graceful legs designed for scuttling.
- Mood: nervous
