Ahh, Spring...

We were hit with an unexpected cold snap at the beginning of April. Blooming things had to retreat to the earth from wince they came, and those that couldn't will have to wait until next year to be seen again.

Saturday was chilly and rainy, but a fun and family-filled day. The FI-ance and my parents are this close to meeting now, since we saw them both on Saturday (the first time this happened on a non-holiday). His 'rents are the very eager type; if they're up early they assume we are too and insist on calling. Of course, this time we were glad they called because they were about half way to our still-sleep-filled house. On top of that we had to take the FI-ance's car for an oil change before they got to us and it was only 9:30am. Suddenly I had to put on clothes, hide stray underwear and clean the bathroom. And you know there's more, right? I'd told Mrs. FI-ance that I'd scan all the photos she gave me of FI-ance as a wobbly-headed boy by Saturday so that if we saw them she could take her albums back. You know I didn't do it. Stop playing, internet.

After a fairly short visit, where the 'rents dropped off the FI-ance's ladders and loaned us a big ol' saw for hacking away at the tree in the backyard, we picked up the car and then headed out to lunch. I wanted a simple soup and sandwich BAD, but the FI-ance wanted Chinese so I gave in and settled on our local Chinese Buffet. Don't get me wrong, I love a good buffet. My problem is that I love them too much. I always eat one plate too many and I always know I'm doing it.

What did me in this time? Oh, Lord. The. Peach. Cobbler. I will admit here that I am a bit oddball-like because I hate peaches and hate cooked peaches even more. But? But. That peach juice combined with a crispy, brown, flaky crust gets me every time. I had two heaping helpings. Almost ate myself sick.

Which brings me to all my health issues. I went to an internist Monday, she did a little physical exam and told me nothing felt or looked unusual. I go back tomorrow morning for blood work so they can check for thyroid conditions, diabetes, cholesterol issues...

Can I make a confession? I would love to be able to blame my insane weight gain on a semi-serious illness. LOVE IT. How sick is that? Obviously I had to step on a scale when I went to the doctor, and I've gained about 7 pounds since January. I thought about ordering some pants for summer today (size 22 women's...yay), but have since become a bit depressed. I look at all the crap I could be buying if I weren't so fat - cheap, cute stuff. Then I look at the fat people clothes - mostly matronly and expensive. Or, if they're cute, REALLY OUTRAGEOUSLY expensive. I cannot win.

It's also possible I've got irritable bowl syndrome. I might have to go to a gastrointerologist to see for sure. If my blood work comes back clear I'll have no more excuses; it'll be pretty clear that the fatigue is probably due to my 40lbs-in-one-year weight gain.

My doc suggested Weight Watchers and actually going to the meetings. I know it works for a lot of people, but it just seems so cheesy (mmmmm...cheeeeeese...). Sitting in a depressing little room filled with fat people talking about how hard it is to stop being fat. Not being able to say words like "cookie", "barbecue", "ham" or "bread" because it might be some fat fuck's trigger word or whatever.

Dammit. Can you tell how my day's going?

March=Medicine

You know what internet? I've had a weird month. There's been a vague sense of intestinal illness hovering about me all March long. It's irritating. I can't seem to regulate the bloating, farting, going-to-the-bathroom, not-going-to-the-bathroom stuff. I've taken so much stuff to settle my stomach in the last 30 days that I, personally, could keep the Tums and Rolaids people afloat.

I even had to take two days off just for all the farting. It was honestly gas that you would not believe. What do you mean, why am I telling you this? It's Friday morning, stop pretending you've got something better to do. Ok?

Anyway, it was insane. The entire two days I was off I thought something bigger and badder had to be coming, but it never did. I finally took Immodium just to stop the bloat-fart cycle. Unfortunately it also stopped another cycle, which lead to one interesting night a couple of weeks ago.

About four months ago I got recommendations from my gyno for a GP. I sent an email to one (who takes my insurance) to get an appointment, but never heard anything. I was trying to avoid talking to anybody if I didn't have to, but now I suppose I've got no choice.

Fuck.

Has It Really Come To This?

I was minding my own business Thursday night. Doing a little pre-bed grooming: washing the face, brushing the teeth and such. I noticed the eyebrows needed some maintaining. So I started plucking. What, you ask is so special about that? Well, nothing. Except? Except that I HAD TO PLUCK A GRAY EYEBROW HAIR.

Damn. Really? At 32? This is what my future holds now? Gray facial hairs? Seriously?

Don't get me wrong, I realize this is nobody's fault. But I don't think I can do this. It's bad enough I get the occasional whisker that needs removing. I've been dealing with that crap since I was about 24. But if I have to yank a gray whisker from any of my whisker-spots prior to my 40th birthday, I truly think it may kill me.

So, face? You're on notice asswipe. Tone that shit down.

7:20AM Sucks

Well, it finally happened. After getting to work a half hour late for a few days I finally got spanked. I had to have a mid-point catch-up thingy with my supervisor last Friday, and was quite gently told to stop my being late bullshit. I really had been meaning to work on that, but you know what? I hate waking up early and hadn't gotten in trouble so I said fuck it. I knew it was crap, though, so I'm attempting to rectify my shit.

I got up before 8am yesterday and damned if it didn't screw me over. I got a headache, my eyeball started itching and then I felt sick to my stomach. And yes, I honestly do believe getting up early did all that to me.

It is now the same time that I started to fall apart yesterday. Wish me luck.

My Right Boob Is Out Of Control

No matter what bra I put on, it's like Right Boobica has a mind of her own. Every time I look down I find she's trying to unleash herself on the world. I freely admit to staying far away from underwired, super-supportive, side-binding, back-flattening, old-droopy-lady bras. But dammit, Boobica! Control yourself already!!
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I had a dream the night before last. I've had some well-documented freak show dreams, but this one was odd mainly for it's brevity. It was a dark, rainy night. The FI-ance and I were living in the house I grew up in, which had two front doors; one where the door really was on the right side, and one on the left side. The house was dark and we heard a noise. We opened the left door to a life-sized milk chocolate rendering of Arnold Swartzenegger. That was it. I think I might donate my brain to science after I die.
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Almost two weeks ago now I was using the bathroom and talking to my mom on the phone (Quiet! She's my mom, ok?). The house came with one of those storage-y over-the-toilet cabinet things, and Tux likes to lounge around up there. You know, maybe look out the window a bit. Well, silly-cat-face was doing just that, and as he tried to back out of the window onto the top shelf he fell. Onto me. As I talked on the phone while sitting on the toilet. My life, it can get no better.
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So, I went to the eye doctor Wednesday. Apparently my glasses are useless now, even though I hadn't noticed. I've got more myopias & astigmatisms & such, and therefore spent $400 on new glasses. While I'm glad I had the cash to spend and didn't need to lay it on my Citibank, I was really wanting to get something fun and basically frivolous with my tax refund. Like a new camera, or a nice little trip someplace. An additional $400 is going to be spent on starting to fix our screwy pipes. That leaves about $125. Damned responsibility.
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Also on Wednesday? Another bathroom adventure. I'm not entirely sure what's wrong with me. I eat a bowl of oatmeal for breakfast almost everyday, suck down lots of veggies and fruit. But what happened for the second time in 7 days? Yes, I stopped up the toilet. Honestly? That's just not ladylike. What's worse is that after a half hour of plunging (my hand has been sore for two days...shut up), I still couldn't get things to move along, out of my life and out of my house. The FI-ance had fallen asleep at his desk, but I woke him up and if my face weren't so naturally brown it would have turned bright red because I was em-bar-ras-sed. I asked him if he wanted to try. He thankfully said no (I really didn't want him going in there and seeing...well, what he would have had to see), so I headed to WalMart. Thank God they had a toilet snake. Incidentally? As I left and drove home I felt like everyone I passed knew I PERSONALLY had clogged up a toilet.

My Financial Nitwittery Strikes Again

My current major source of consternation is my own idiocy. I've managed twice in the past two months to incur 4 insufficient funds fees and, for about a week, a long string of negative balance fees. The most fantastic part? These God dammed fees ate up a healthy portion of my state tax refund. I finally got up the nerve to call and try to get the shit waived yesterday, but as I suspected, it was no use. I suppose I could've been harder nosed or tried crying, but it's my own fucking fault. I really will get it together one day.

On a considerably more positive note, I've begun saving again. I set up automatic deposits to my savings account on the 15th of every month, with the added hope of putting something in at every other pay period too. I have not told the FI-ance, but now that he's read this I hope he'll continue to trust my spankin' new saving acumen and just let me handle this. OK, boy?

The thing about having a house is that issues just keep coming. We had finally gotten all settled when we noticed the basement drain backing up every time we did the laundry. We called a plumber...and then we called him again 3 days later. Turns out our pipes are offset and that's what's with all the blockage. It's apparently a lateral line problem, which means our fair city has to come out and run a camera through the pipes to see where the issue is.

What's that you say? Oh, heavens no! The camera work isn't free, that'll be $400 please, says the city of Kirkwood. On top of that, when we finally go to get the crap fixed for good we'll be on the hook for %40 of the $3,000 to $6,000 cost of repairs, even though it's the city's pipes that are fucked. What the Hell! As long as nothing is going to cave in, the FI-ance and I have agreed to wait and not put ourselves into anymore debt over this pipe thing. And (knockonwoodpraisetheLord) the basement hasn't backed up in two weeks anyway.

Also, we could use more kitchen cabinets. We've gotten rid of a ton of pots, pans, dishes and utensils, but there still isn't enough room for what's left and, you know...food. I've had to resort to using the oven as storage space, and not just the broiler part at the bottom, but the whole damn thing, y'all. We have one good wall for cabinets, and the FI-ance's estimate of parts and labor sets us back $500 big ones. Why couldn't the heifer who rehabbed this place had thought to put those up? I mean how is anybody supposed to fit all their dishes and food and shit into 4 cabinets, one of which has the sink/garbage disposal pipes running through it? Bitch, please.

Now that's it's warming up a bit there are some spring type things we need. A water hose, stain and seal for the deck, a rake, lawn mower, edge trimmer, and definitely some pest control. Every time I venture into the basement now, I see at least one roach. I cannot stand the idea of those things in my house. Even in the basement. Now, we had a conversation about this just last night: the FI-ance claims (though he hasn't seen any of the bugs) that I'm not seeing roaches. "I bet some of them are beetles." Honestly, I realize that an unfinished basement, especially, is gonna have buggles of all kinds. But I know a roach when I see one. And, yes, we have roaches, of the cock variety, in the nethers of our house.

I'm trying to be reasonable about it. I wanted to go to Lowe's or Home Depot and get one of those giant bug jugs with the sprayer on it, douse the outside of the house and a few important corners inside and be done with it. FI-ance wants to call the Orkin man. Here I am trying to be all do-it-yourselfy, and he wants to spend more money on professional spraying service. Cause that's all there is to it, right? You buy some good killin' stuff, spray it and you're done. Right?

My Current List of Problems

-Being bored at work
-Sick of getting up and going to work everyday but still needing the paycheck
-Having a dining room full of bags and boxes and no idea where to put them
-Owning an excessive amount of books, towels and silverware even though I've given several away
-Staying at home way too much
-1 unfinished screenplay that I wanted to enter into 2 contests by the end of February
-No savings and a huge list of things I need and want
-Being tired all the time, and therefore not doing other things that will make my life better (cooking instead of eating fast food, exercising instead of napping, organizing the house, working on creative ideas, going out at night like a normal relatively young person...)
-No comfort with socializing
-Having trouble keeping in contact with my few non-work friends
-Feeling really busy yet knowing I don't actually do anything
-Seemingly being completely non-orgasmic and thereby becoming less and less interested in sex

I took care of two of these issues this weekend. The lack of energy thing has plagued me for months now, so I finally decided to give up my Flintstones Chewables and try a more mature vitamin. I picked that all day energy One-A-Day kind. I didn't feel anything on Saturday when I had my first dose (I had to cut the pill in half, btw. Why do vitamins have to be so fuckin' HUGE?), but I got a major burst of something Sunday night at 11pm. I started cleaning the dining room and got rid of 6 boxes and 5 bags of our combined crap, put together a bookcase and filled it and two other cases with books. I went to bed at 3am. You know I'm almost dead now, right? I mean, I can feel my eyes trying to go to sleep without my permission as I type. I'm trying so hard to keep busy at work today so things go by quickly and I can get home by 5pm to take a nap before heading out to review my first film (Music and Lyrics) in almost two months.

*snore*

Dear Tux,

Dammit Cat! For the love of Sweet Fuzzy Jesus, please, please stop throwing up. Seriously, like, what do you need, really? Less cat food? More cat food? Different cat food? I cannot take the cat vomit any more.

This morning (7:21 am, luckily just 9 minutes before my alarm was set to go off-you know, the perfect time to get me up) when I awoke to your *hec, hec, hec* vomit convulsions ON THE BED I was so not happy. Is this really the way you like to wake up the people who feed, pet and shelter you? REALLY? 'Cause how about a meow or some purring near our faces, yeah...I hear some cats like to do it that way.

So, the bed. I can only thank God that it was on a small spot on the actual sheets-which I had to run downstairs and wash. But did you have to also spew on the bed post, bed frame, the FI-ance's bike spokes by the bed and the floor around it all? Did you? Huh!? Ok, just my opinion here, but I believe THAT was unnecessary.

You know what Tuximillion? Don't answer any previous questions, just promise me this: while we have most of our possessions in bags, boxes, baskets and crates as we try to put this house together, please, PLEASE don't throw up in, on or around them. I do not want to open a box labeled BOOKS and find my Kate Chopin covered in fur turds.

Maxiporium

I discovered something interesting about myself while engaged in the moving of my stuff this month. I sorta have a lot of maxi pads. Wait, not sorta a lot, but SO MANY THAT IF MENSTRUATION LASTED FROM CONCEPTION UNTIL DEATH NO WOMAN WOULD EVER USE THEM ALL.

I'm thinking about opening a store. Maybe I'll call it The House That Maxis Built. What about Maxi's Place? Maxiporium is a favorite, but I'm open to ideas. After all, the store would be for the greater good, you know.

I. Am A Child

I just had to ask my mom for $500. I feel horrible.

We were prepared for about half of the expense, then we found all this little house crap that needed to be added to what we're having this handyman/carpenter/electrician dude do for us. Because I'm an idiot who's spent her last check on pants (because she's grown out of 6 pairs) and meals out (because she hasn't felt like cooking or saying no her FI-ance) we don't have enough left to pay him and pay my last rent at the old place and the internet man. All this stuff is happening before I get paid again. The FI-ance is paying my rent, the internet guy and an assortment of bills from his old place; leaving not much for our handyman.

I cannot remember the last time I asked my mom for money. It was literally several years ago, probably the last time I moved in 2000. I know for a fact she paid for that. This feels way worse though, because now there's two of us footing the bill for stuff.

But, she's my mom. She said yes and told me to stop by after work today. And considering all the things she's helped me with in the past I know she won't hold it over me or even expect to be repaid. Which will make repaying her (this time, for real) so sweet.

I did sense a certain trepidation in her voice. I think she believes we (ok, me specifically) weren't ready for this living together thing. God, we cannot fall on our faces.

Unbelieveable

I've been mad at the FI-ance for three days now.

It started on Tuesday when he made a big deal of telling me he'd be home early, but then stayed at work late anyway. Then he was all excited about getting stainless steel hoses for the washing machine. So we spent the next hour and a half calling for prices (I will be so glad when we finally have our internet connected at the house!) and then roaming around Lowe's looking for that shit.

I was thinking,"ok, most of the night's busted, but at least we can get some stuff from my place and work on the house." Yeah, that would've been nice. But it didn't happen.

He elected not to go to my apartment with me so he could 1)install the washer and dryer 2)put up the shower rod and 3)put our mailbox up. Not that those things didn't need to be done, but dammit I really wanted his help. And now the balance of the evening was going to be spent apart.

My FI-ance was thinking this was going to be a speedy little trip, and so did I at first. Then I got there and got even more pissed that he wasn't helping me and decided to grab as much as I could, which ended up taking about two hours. He rang my cell just as I was trying to come in the door with my arms full.

Here, internet, is what got me seriously angry. HE DIDN'T OFFER TO HELP CARRY MY CRAP INSIDE. Oh, not that bad, you say? Well, I asked him to help me. AND HE DECLINED. That's right, the FI-ance decided not to help me so he could get back to his installation of things that could have been finished, OVER THE PREVIOUS WEEKEND. (Side note: he did say he felt a cold or something coming on during that weekend and he was trying to rest up for Sunday's big move, it's not that I don't believe it...but, still.)

Oh, Hell! I was so mad. I already had to take 7 trips to and from the car at my apartment and now I have to do the same thing because you won't help me? I wanted to throw a box at his head.

He then had the nerve to ask if I'd go to WalMart with him while he picked up a dryer hose or some such mechanical crap, SO WE COULD SPEND SOME TIME TOGETHER. No, I'm not even playing. Those were his exact words. At first I said no because it was after midnight and I was tired and pissed and in my pj's. Then he needed help putting up the mailbox, so I had to put on clothes and then figured I might as well go to WalMart and buy shit I didn't need to make me feel less like stuffing my fiance' in the dryer and running it on high.

What's worse is that he did it again last night, make me mad that is. Because he got home by 7pm last night, but it was so he could watch Smallville. You read right. At home early; not to see me, but to watch a fucking tv show. I was angry all night and just like Tuesday told him so.

Now that everything's hooked up, maybe I'll put him in the washer and then dry him. I do so love to have options.

He's Not A Trucker

We delayed our actual big, truck-renting moving day until Sunday because of the Ice Storm of the Century that never materialized. I cannot express, after over a FULL YEAR of going back and forth between two apartments, how badly I wanted to get this consolidation thing DONE.
The FI-ance suggested, originally, a 24 foot U-Haul. So, that's what I got. Sunday morning, running behind schedule already, we go to pick it up and his face blanches.

"I...I think this may be too much truck for me. I mean, I've never driven that much truck before. That...that's BIG."

I stared at him from inside the truck, where I was checking the starting miles and fuel level. Internet, I do believe you know me well enough to guess my feelings on this.

"What? Listen, I'm sorry, but I need a smaller truck. Would you rather have me drive something I'm almost sure I can't handle? That's a lotta truck to be responsible for. And I'm not even sure that would fit into your parking lot and around those turns; all that's kinda small."

I know it's unreasonable, internet, but I was livid. So mad I could barely speak. So angered that I almost started crying. I just wanted to get this shit over with and he was breaking the flow.

I did get a smaller truck. A 17 footer to be exact, and I thank the SWEETBABYJESUS for that. As it was the FI-ance: ran into a stop sign, knocked over a street sign, drove onto at least 2 sidewalks and scraped off half of a wheel well while running over curbs.

I'm so glad he convinced me to get that insurance at the rental place.

Everything Smells Funny

And by "everything", I mean me. The FI-ance and me moved into the new house this weekend, and what a looong weekend it was. But I'm not saying that in a good way.

I took my first shower last night after almost 4 days of being too tired to bother. Not to mention needing to locate towels and soap and lotion. Or the fact that when you know you're going to get smelly again the next day, why make the extreme effort of showering?

I'm clean now but I swear I'm still faintly funky. I can't take a bath yet because 1) I don't trust the bathtub (I cleaned it out but haven't bleached it and therefore it isn't butt worthy yet) and 2) the damn tub doesn't have a stopper.

You know how they bomb homes for pest control? That's what I feel like I need for personal funk. Anybody know where they sell a B.O. Bomb?

My Fiance Doesn't Like Bending: News At Eleven

I'm going to try real hard to post about this without snark. It's gonna be hard, ok? But I'm doing it because I love you boy. Now, on to the story.

So you know how we bought this house, right? Well there aren't many cabinets in the kitchen and we'll need to get something to put ALL THE FOOD THAT BOY EATS in. My ideas for a solution were of the obvious baker's rack/inhanced microwave cart type. Then the boy reveals his long held secret: HE DOES NOT LIKE TO BEND.

I was confused. See, I have a microwave cart at my place where I keep most of my canned goods/cereal/assorted dry foods. Apparently, for this whole year, the boy has been irritated by the fact that he has to bend down and look through the cart to get to his beloved bean-n-bacon soup. Still, I was confused. Because, you know, bending is just a part of life. Right? Everybody bends all the time, don't we? You pick up stuff, don't you? Put air in your tires. Or duck down when the head clearance is low. Right? RIGHT???

We have now had at least two arguments about not putting things we use often so close to the floor (!), and in something where everything can't be seen at once (!!). One of these heated conversations took place in the crowded customer service line at WalMart. Yes, really. We are now those people. The kind that make you all uncomfortable when you're trying to return the air matress you poked a hole into with your nipple piercing but are pretending it came with that hole, dammit.

After initially laughing my head off and admittedly making fun of the boy, I've tried to take the high road and figure out a solution that will...accomodate him. But as he's very sensitive about this primary priority issue, he gets frustrated and irritable whenever we discuss it. I suggested, during our WalMart confrontation, that he be in charge of organizing whatever storage thingie we put in the kitchen. Maybe it was just hunger, but can you believe that pissed him off? I bet you can believe him getting pissed made me pretty damn angry. I was honestly being all sincere and stuff, internet.

We looked at some options this weekend, and still can't come to a final decision. He essentially wants a baker's rack made of wood that we won't have to assemble. I know, what the hell, right?

Totally. I cannot believe how much effort we're having to put into this. But, always remember boy: rawr, RAWR, raaaaawwr.

I Got The Call

Just about 40 minutes ago I heard from our realtor. We finally got it. We closed on our house. Our House. And? And...maybe I was so happy I cried a little. At my desk. At work. I'm overjoyed and in shock, so forgive me for being a bit subdued.

I cannot believe this past year. The boy, the cat, the job, the house...it's all amazing. I feel like a real-live adult. An incredibly blessed and lucky real-live adult.

Happy New Year Internet, and may all your years be as wonderful as this one has been to me.

XO
citygirl

Word to the Wise...

Don't ever close on a house while you're on your period. If you do, know that every little annoyance will irritate your already delicate emotional state to the hilt; making you either want to curl up into the fetal position and cry, or stab random people in their eyeballs.

Oh yeah, we're closing on our house today. Wish me and the fiance' (pronounced FI-ance, if you're from my neck of the woods) luck.

HAPPY HOLIDAYS EVERYBODY!!!

The List, She Grows

1)Finish my review of Eragon and sent to my editor
2)Exercise asap when I get home
3)Go to Night at the Museum Wed
4)Write notes for review
5)Set up home owners insurance & switch car ins. to same company
6)Get mortgage papers and fill out with loan officer and the boy
7)Get some food in the house
8)Start packing small stuff I don't need
9)Get more boxes
10)Call mom & tell her we found a house, bid on it and got it
11)Finish filing all those pages I rip outta magazines & print off the internet
12)Finally read the last two Sandman volumes
13)Post some stuff to flickr
14)Set up a budget dammit
15)Work on screenplay again
16)See about working at Sundance, SXSW and CineVegas
17)Formulate more interesting blog posts
18)Join Film Independent by 12/15
19)Stop coughing and having a sore throat
20)Donate $ somewhere
21)See what's left to buy of Christmas gifts
22)Wrap stuff
23)Make tea cakes for Mrs Nichols
24)Make cookies for me, because I deserve them
25)Stop getting in the bed after midnight already
26)Fill out paperwork to take house closing day off work
27)Consider decorative options for the walls at new house
28)See if I can get $ back from FedEx
29)Get refund from Newport News
30)List more stuff on Half.com

Wow, I'm already thinking of ways to pretend I don't need to do 90% of this stuff.

Hmmmm, And Now...?

Ok, so I had this whole post planned out yesterday about how the boy and I put a bid on a house after he made one decision and then got all confused and frustrated again five minutes after I called our realtor and told her we were doing one thing and had to call her back and tell her another, right? Well that's not even news now, cause now? Now, internet? THE BOY AND I HAVE ACTUALLY REALLY BOUGHT A HOUSE.

I got so very little done today with all the talking to the realtor and faxing stuff to sign and signing and getting ahold of the boy to get his fax number and calling the mortgage man and having him call me back and learning FHA would kinda screw us so we needed to go conventional and finding out Ms. Realtor made an appointment for our inspection this weekend and it'll cost $358. That, and I'm gonna have to pony up my last two months rent (aka $900 I don't have) to get outta the lease.

I feel too rushed to be happy or excited right now. I need to cash in some vacation days to pay for my rent. I have to get our utilities switched over. We need to talk to his folks, who are holding onto an inheritance we're using to pay for some of this, about the cash for that damned expensive inspection. And there's like 50 million other things to do.

Did I mention I feel like I need to throw up? Or that I have the smell of fear about my person?

Holy shit, internet. Throw a few good vibes by me and the boy. We is so gonna need 'em.

Just A Letter

Dearest Person Who Used the Bathroom Before Me,

Thank you for reiterating several points I (and probably not you) learned as a wee babe:
1) Always look closely at the toilet prior to sitting down
2) Use toilet paper
3) Flush the damn toilet
4) Wash your hands...with soap & water as warm as you can stand
5) Never flush with your foot while wearing flip flops (because nobody wants to hop out of a boardwalk bathroom with one shoe)

As none of these issues seem to be on your mind, I trust you're having a fine and trouble free life before burning to crispy-fried goodness in hell.

Thank you. Goodnight.

Crunch Time

Unfortunately this post is not about all the sit-ups I've been doing. The boy and I are trying to buy a house.

He has been surprisingly animated about the whole thing. I'd been led to believe that guys wouldn't really get into the whole "this one looks good" thing. My boy, though, is all over this. So much so that left to his own devices he ran our realtor.com picks up to 45 houses. Honestly, that was just insane. True, he was picking cheap and well updated place. But they were HU-NORMOUS. I'm talking 6 bedrooms, 5 bathrooms, three floor housing extravaganzas. Internet, I had to reign him in.

Now, after two weekends of go-sees we've narrowed it to a nice field of 8 we're making appointments to see the inside of. We did most of our neighborhood house stalking in the dark because of that damned daylight savings time. One positive thing about that is we got to see how well lit these areas were, and if people seemed comfortable outside after dark.
Now that the boy is guided, he's picked sensible places. No mare than 2 bedrooms & bathrooms. I seriously don't know who the hell he thought was going to clean 5 toilets. We all know it wasn't going to be me, right?

We're trying to get our move on by the end of February when my lease is up. I realize that technically it wouldn't have made any sense to start looking earlier than this month, but I feel kinda rushed now. Is that normal? And what about all the fees and stuff? I have a feeling we're not planning for some financial burden with this house buying thing. I'd hate for us to commit ourselves and think we've got it all covered and then realize we're up the creek because we forgot about one little thing that costs a few grand to take care of before we can move in.

Any suggestions? Ideas? Advice?