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| I don't usually use my lunch hour for anything more than a break from work and time to track down food. But every once in awhile something happens that makes lunch turn into something a little more worthwhile. Like I got an email a few days ago from an old college friend. I haven't seen him since maybe 1993 or 1994 and we've only emailed once or twice since then, the last email was probably two or three years ago. But I come into work and check my email and there it is, an email from someone from my past. He's going to be in town in a few days, do we want to try to get together. Hmm, do we want to try to get together? Um, YES!!!!!! There was a brief moment when I was afraid that we wouldn't be able to get together. I had something going on Wednesday night and Scott needed to be in Philly Thursday evening, but we finally figured out that we could do lunch on Thursday before he left. A stolen hour, not nearly enough time. It's been so long, there were some moments where the conversation stalled. I don't know much about his wife, I'm behind the times on his job status (currently "on a break"), and it's hard to know how to cram 15 years of stuff into a lunch conversation. But we managed. It was over too soon and he was on his way. But I had a smile on my face the rest of the day. And promises on both sides that we will try to get together again, soon. | | |
| One of those things that is tough about having time to move is that in some ways it's easy to procrastinate. "Oh, I don't need to do any packing today. I can do some tomorrow. I have two months...." But then time passes and suddenly you're out of time. So despite the fact that I really didn't feel ready to move, I finally gave myself an ultimatum on Sunday that I had to move the cats and plan on sleeping at the new house. Yes, the bathrooms still need to be scrubbed. Yes, the carpets still smell kind of stale. Yes, I really wanted to wash the basement floor first. Etc., etc., etc. But Sunday evening after the show, I went home and started packing in a very focused manner. Litter boxes? Check. Dog food? Check. Cat food? Check. Shampoo, toothpaste, soap, towel? Check, check, check, check. I even remember to pack clean underwear, but I did forget to pack most of my pillows and had to kind of fudge things in that department. I got to the house and brought everything (and everybody) inside. Litter boxes all went down into the basement. I set up a bowl of cat food and showed the cats (except Zigamaboo, who decided that I was the Devil and refused to come near me again after the cat carrier incident) where it was. I turned on the water in the house, took a shower and went to bed. My back and knees were agony Monday morning and walking down the stairs to let the dog out was no fun. Even less fun was that there was a huge puddle of water under the kitchen sink. Guess there's something leaking there. So I had to drag my sorry little bones back up the stairs and then back down the stairs again with some towels. I turned off the water under the kitchen sink. Sopped up the puddle. Yeehaw. Went to feed the dog and discovered a horde of tiny ants had found the dog food bag. Yeehaw again. It took a few tries but I finally got the seal thing to seal. During all this the cats were driving me nuts. Even Zigamaboo--I guess lack of food is enough to overcome fear of the Devil. So I went downstairs with them to show them again where the food was and they were very excited. About that time I noticed two things: Jinx was missing. And there was another big puddle in the basement. More up and down stairs to get towels and a blanket (I'd run out of towels) and a bucket and a screw driver (to poke a hole in the ceiling). Then up and down the stairs listening to a faint meowing and trying to locate the noise. Poor Jinx had gotten shut in the downstairs bathroom all night (I swear I'd looked before I shut the door--she must have been in the cabinet under the sink behind something). By that point my knees were pretty much done for, so I called in sick to work, turned off the water in the house, and went back to bed. Woke up a few hours later and turned the water back on so I had running water in the bathroom, but left it off under the kitchen sink. I guess that needs some work still. Then I went back to bed for a few more hours. Finally I woke up around 4pm feeling at least a little more human--at least my knees weren't still on fire--so I got up, let the dog out, fed the dog (and wrestled with the seal on the dog food bag again), showered, and headed to the apartment. My goal last night was to do all the laundry that was laying around the apartment. Unfortunately we were down to only one functional washing machine in my building, so I could only do one load at a time. I managed to get about five loads done but I was wearing down at that point, so I decided to just leave the rest. While the laundry was running, I vacuumed where the litter boxes had been--looks much better now--and did some other cleaning in the apartment and packed. I had a pretty full load in my car when I finally left the apartment last night to head home. Something I have to keep reminding myself, which I think is kind of funny, is that I'm moving. Everything needs to go. Doesn't matter if I need it tomorrow or won't need it for two years--it needs to get moved. There's this nagging voice in the back of my head that will tell me things like, "Don't pack that right now. You don't need it. Surely there's other stuff that could be packed instead?...." Um, yeah, like everything? Anyway, I think I did a decent job last night of moving stuff that really needed to get moved (like pillows) and a bunch of stuff that can just get put into a pile somewhere to be sorted later. I forgot pillow cases, so I was still roughing it a little bit. But I had one, which worked for my main pillow. I got back to the house around 9:30 and opened the door to the rather strong smell of dog shit. Sure enough, Colby had pooped in the middle of the living room. He was sitting up on the stairs looking very guilty. I cleaned up the mess and then tried to call him over into the kitchen to let him out. He refused to budge and just sat cowering in front of the front door. I finally had to go over to him and drag him back through the living room and kitchen to go outside. He peed and then when I let him back in, he ran back over to the front door and said there cowering the whole time I was moving things in from the car. Every time I came in I had to get him to move and then I would practically trip over him on my way out the door. Yes, Dog, I am moving all of my belongings into this house so I can abandon you here with all my stuff and the cats. The fact that I'm sleeping here does not mean that I might be living here. I am only trying to lull you into a false sense of secuirty. I had to go downstairs with the kitties again to convince them there really was food down there. While I was down there I tried to turn off the water to the set tub (which is also dripping) only to discover the water is actually turned off at the turn off. When I turned the handles, water came rushing out of the faucets. So I guess even the turn offs there need some work. Yeehaw. I finally headed up the stairs and back to bed. Sleep was a little challenging. My knees were still bugging me and the cats came in multiple times to make sure I knew they were worried about their food (which was still where it should be this morning when I got up). And at least once I rolled over to see a very large dark object in the top corner of the window hanging from the screen. I guess I should be glad that it's Zigamaboo who feels the need to climb screens and not Mr. Quimby, because I doubt I'd have any screens left if he tried to climb one. I had wanted to go back to the apartment tonight and work on doing some more laundry/packing. But I think tonight will end up being a night for cleaning in the house. If I'm going to be living there, I'd like to feel less like I'm living in a toxic waste zone. Probably I will also take a nap. Because I like naps. | | |
| So the bank finally "approved" my offer for the house, but they want $148K for the house, not the $120K I offered, which was the listing price. My initial reaction was "fuck them" and to just walk away from the house. Seriously, when was the last time you went shopping and discovered that the price on the item you were buying had gone up between you picking it up off the shelf and getting to the cashier? And most stores, if a price is advertised on the shelf and you take it to the cashier and it rings up at a higher price (do things still "ring up" in our modern era of bar codes?), you say, "But it was $5 on the shelf." And the cashier needs to match the price on the shelf. (And then send someone back to fix the price so that future sales are at the correct price.)
But I guess real estate isn't Target and "contingent on third party approval" means they can sit with their thumbs up their asses for eight months and then tell you "Oh, the housing market is stabilizing and prices are going up, so the house is now worth more than it was when you made your offer."
Not that I'm bitter or anything.
But I talked with my parents and I talked with Anne (well, emailed her and she emailed me back) and I've talked with my realtor. And the truth is that the house was a bargain at the price I offered and it's still well worth the price the bank wants. Which leads to the next question--can I afford it?
Meanwhile, for the last six months in the back of my head there's been this niggling little voice telling me I should be looking at other houses in case the bank didn't approve my offer or in case the house didn't pass inspection. So the bank approved my offer (more or less) what about the inspection? Well, hell, for my own peace of mind and so I can really make an informed decision, let's go ahead and do the inspection. So I contacted my realtor and she set up an inspeciton for today at 3pm (which kind of put my prep for my colonoscopy at a bad time, but I figured an hour one way or the other wouldn't kill me). So I got up today in anticipation...
My realtor told the listing agent that we needed the power on for the inspection. But then the seller swore she hadn't had the power turned off, so she didn't try to contact the power company to get it turned back on. (I guess it didn't occur to her that if she hadn't paid her bill in forever, they'd turn it off for her.) So the listing agent and the seller went by the house this morning "just to make sure" and discovered the power was not on. I guess us telling them we'd been in the house in October and there was no power was not proof enough. Which means we're going to reschedule the inspection, probably Tuesday or Wednesday, hopefully no later than that.
Meanwhile, I went to see some other houses yesterday. My realtor had sent me a list of four houses for us to go look at and then a list of two more on Friday. The houses we looked at were not the houses she sent me. Houses are going on the market and getting contracts on them that fast. But we might as well look at what there is, right?
The first one was okay size-wise and was in a neighborhood I really like, but other than that it was a total waste of time. My realtor's listing showed the house as vacant, but when we went in, there was someone sleeping on the floor in the living room. The kitchen was a wreck--it was going to need a new stove and refrigerator. All the carpeting needed to be ripped out. And the upstairs bathroom was truly disgusting--turned my stomach to think someone was living there. All that for $150K. Pretty much as soon as we saw the upstairs bathroom, we left as quickly as we could. It was really disgusting.
The second house we went to was smaller--two bedrooms, no basement, small attic. It had a cute little balcony you could get to from either bedroom, but they obviously used it instead of their yard for their dog to do his business. The downstairs was very open feeling with lots of windows and mirrors, but the square footage was pretty small. We had fun watching some squirrels do gymnastics under the tree next to the house.
Then we went to look at a couple of places in a development I hadn't been to before. The first one I'd seen listed before, but the price was pretty high and the condo fee is $400/month. The price had dropped a lot (like to under $100K), so I thought we should go look at it. It was two floors, but they were downstairs (like a basement and sub-basement) and it was very small. I think I would have been depressed in it, too. It was very dark. Small windows. The owners had cared for it well, though.
My realtor found another one in that development that was $150K. I said after looking at the first one it probably wasn't worth going to the second one because I couldn't afford that and the condo fee. (I had hoped the condo fee included utilities, but apparently not.) But the listing agent for the second place had made a trip out there so he could show it to us, so we went to look anyway when we discovered he was there. The difference between the two was unreal. The second one was upstairs--you had to go up a fairly steep staircase to get inside the condo and then you went up another staircase to get into the unit itself. It was huge and airy and painted in bright colors--blue, turquoise, red. It was very pretty, but too expensive. Plus I figured I'd never be able to have my folks visit, with all those stairs. I'm sure some couple who like to entertain and have a nifty little showplace will snatch it up.
Then we went to another house, but the woman who owned it wasn't there and her daughter called her to ask if it was okay for us to go in. The woman was rather accusatory--"You didn't call me to ask if you could come by!"--but I know Nancy would have called the listing agent. Wasn't our fault the listing agent didn't contact the owner. Anyway, we can always go back--maybe after the seller has moved out.
The last house we went to was way the heck out in the country. My commute from there would be about 20 miles. But there's a MARC station right down the road, so I could maybe take the train. :)
It was a small house built in 1950 and then there was an addition off the back. The house had settled and the floors were kind of adventuresome to walk across. There was a basement, but it was rather primitive (dirt floors) and full of the hugest dead spiders I've ever seen. Seriously. These were like monster spiders. I've never seen spiders this big outside of a pet store or zoo. And they were all white--bleached. Ew, ew, ew! I got creeped out and had to go back upstairs. The ceiling was low and the spiders were about on level with my head. I told Nancy, "I'm not normally real creeped out by spiders. But if one of those things gets into my hair, I have a feeling I'll be freaking out and running down the road screaming!"
The house was on an acre lot and I suspect it will sell and someone will rip it down and build a new house on the lot. But it was intriguing. Not a lot bigger than what I have right now, but a little bit. The biggest thing was that there were basically no closets, so storage would have to be very creative. Also, the yard was not fenced at all, so I'd have to figure something out with Colby. It was well water, septic system and bottled gas (propane?) heat/AC. The price is $125K.
I'm half tempted to make an offer, but I feel like I really need to wait first to see what's up with the inspection. And I'm not really sure that it's worth the commute or the lack of closets. But it would be kind of fun and somewhere down the road I could build something bigger.....
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| The continuing saga.
This week will be filled with trying to catch up on a week's worth of work missed plus scrambling to get to as many doctor's appointments as possible without taking up too much time from work.
The long vacation appears to be over. I'll be glad to be back at work and busy, although I think I benefited from the extended time off.
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| Yeah, well, whatever....
So yesterday I had my ultrasound. I was expecting something different, I guess. Something more like the CT scan, where they focused on the entire abdominal area. But I guess when they know there's something on your kidneys they don't feel like there's a lot of reason to do anything other than look at your kidneys. I didn't even have to remove my pants.
So I was lying there while the tech person took pictures of my right kidney thinking, this just isn't right. It's all well and good to know that there might be something wrong with my kidney. But this pain I'm having is nowhere near my kidney. And it's on the left side, not the right. And damnit, it hurts!
After my appointment, I drove down to Shady Grove Hospital to one of the other radiology office to let them know I needed the CT scan films for my appointment on Thursday. Then I went to the Safeway across the street to get some essentials (almost out of lemon juice--can't make hot toddies without lemon juice!). That's one of the new preppy stores, complete with romantic lighting. Seriously, do we really need mood lighting in a grocery store? If I'm in the produce section, I'd rather have nice bright lights so I can look at what I'm buying. I guess maybe they figure all that organic stuff they're selling isn't as pretty as the chemically treated stuff that regular grocery stores sell, so they dim the lights so you can't really look at it.
Anyway, I bought my lemon juice, some cookies, a few avocados and some tea. The lines were nuts! But the cashiers (at least the cashier and bagger in my line) were in good spirits.
Then I headed over to my doctor's office to get a referral to the urologist. While I was there I asked if the doctor could maybe call me later to talk to me about the pain, because it's going on six weeks now and it's getting old. She did call later and basically said she thought I should go to the emergency room. Which made me feel rather as though she wasn't really listening to me. Seriously, if I've been in pain for six weeks, and the pain isn't like significantly worse, I'd feel kind of stupid going to the doctor's office. That's kind of like amputating a finger because you have a hangnail. Don't get me wrong, if it gets worse, I'm all for going to the emergency room.
We talked and she finally seemed to understand what I was trying to get at. She suggested going back to the GI specialist or going to a general surgeon. I think tomorrow I will try calling the GI office. No point in calling today--they're likely closed with the snow. And maybe I will also try to call the surgeon I've been to. Somebody's got to be able to do something about this.
In other news....
The house is still in a pending status. I guess the good news there is that I finally got in touch with another mortgage guy because the guy I'd been dealing with was such an ass. And the chicky he worked with who contacted me about a couple of things. I fully plan to write a letter of complaint to the company. Doing things like encouraging me to change my withholding so I can afford larger mortgage payments and telling me "I think you're making a bigger deal out of this than is warranted" when I'm trying to get a straight answer about the mortgage is just completely uncalled for. This is a mortgage. 30 years of my life and more money than I've ever used in a single transaction and they're treating me this way? Yeah, I don't think so.
The word from my realtor is that they're waiting on one more signature from the bank. I'm beginning to wonder if the person who needs to sign it has gone to Outer Mongolia for the year and won't be back until June or something. I've been so focused on my health stuff that I haven't made a real push to look at other places, but I'm thinking I should.
Meanwhile I'm packing my stuff and taking boxes to storage to get them out of the house. That's helping a lot. Now that the Superbowl is over, I'm thinking about taking the TV there, too. It's not like I'm using it otherwise, although I suppose I could watch some DVDs or something.
My new baby and I have been struggling a bit to get used to each other. It's funny, the only real description I can come up with on how it feels to be using it is that it's like riding a new horse after years of being with another horse. So it's not a comparison that would necessarily work for everyone. But that's the way I feel. The mechanics are all the same, but the entire feel is different. The treadle, for instance, is more of a downward push than an upward push. And I've been having some trouble figuring out the ideal tension on the brake band. I did finally put a bit of velcro on the little wooden peg because the string kept slipping--I guess that's one main difference between a shiny finish and the rustic finish on my Ashford. I'm still thinking I need to use some beeswax on the tension at the bobbin to help a bit.
The rubber drive band is phenomenal, though. I have one somewhere for my Ashford and I'm thinking I should see if I can find it and use it. It's very interesting--you don't actually have to have the drive band very taut at all with the rubber drive band. I think some of why I didn't use it on the Ashford was that I couldn't figure out how to attach it and have it tense enough. And the answer is that it doesn't need to be very tense to spin the wheel. My string drive bands are always stretching out and fraying from the amount of pressure on them.
One of the nice things about handspun, though, is that it is very forgiving. Part of it's beauty is the imperfections, so I'm creating some very beautiful yarn right now as I get used to the Sonata.
That's about all for now...
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