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Archive for the ‘the house’ Category

how to disappear

Monday, January 12th, 2015

I bought a book called How To Disappear on Kindle a few years ago. Perhaps as research for Corked? That would make sense, although I don’t actually remember that being the reason. More likely it was because I was considering packing up Cloey and Maida and making a full on escape-from-grad-school attempt.

One of the first things that the author points out is that if you really are planning on ditching your life, you messed up if you bought the book with anything but cash, anywhere but a book store without cameras. Fortunately, I didn’t end up making a break from grad school, so it didn’t matter.

However, I’m now perhaps considering it again (blogging about it isn’t a tip off, right?) because I’m having a party.

A cocktail/housewarming/birthday party, on Saturday.

To be clear, I am psyched as hell about the party. I have two separate party cocktails along with beer and wine, and literally ten different canapes planned. (Seven savory, three sweet, half vegetarian, some gluten free, some dairy free – I really thought this through.) I’m excited for my work friends to meet my … life friends? Non-work friends? Friends friends? (There’s no reasonable thing to call my friends that I don’t work with that doesn’t demean the people I do work with, but who are we kidding, no one likes their work friends as much as their friend friends. Except the people in The Office.)

The thing is, I have 30 yes RSVPs.

I absolutely blame myself. For being so damn lovable.

Ahahaha just kidding I’m the worst, remember? I do blame myself, though. Reason 1) I’m used to throwing girl only parties, so I invited all the women I would normally invite and their plus ones. Double the list, didn’t plan for it. Reason 2) I clearly underestimated how much combining two big parties AND requiring people to dress up would up the guest list. Housewarming, skippable but fun. Fancy cocktail party, skippable but a nice excuse to buy a new outfit plus it was very clearly stated that you didn’t have to bring ANYTHING. Birthday party … skippable with good cause. The three together? Unstoppable. Basically everyone but my boss said yes. (Very polite of her, don’t you think? It was perhaps a risk inviting her but I think we played the social situation quite well.)

It’s going to be awesome. Or I’m going to spend the whole night worrying about food and drinks. Or it’s going to be great. Or I’m going to spend the whole night worried about Agnes and Maida.  Or it’s going to be carefree and a kick. Or I’m going to get crazy drunk and embarrass myself in front of most of the people I love.

Just maybe I should have paid for the book with cash.

let’s do this

Sunday, December 28th, 2014

I have made pretty damn good progress on this house that I’ve lived in for 12 days.



See??? (See also: tiny dog in a tiny sweater.)

Self back pat, with a smug look on my face. Since this picture was taken I’ve painted the wall on the right dark grey and ordered a kitchen table that fits the space, too.

So I’ve been busy and also distracted. Every house idea I have requires money and I am maybe a teeeensy bit over my house budget already (teensy is an actual financial term when you add two extra ‘e’s, I don’t know if you all knew that so you’re welcome) so I can’t do a lot of that. I can paint a lot of walls but I think perhaps some of those decisions are best made slowly. Yes?

So today I was like hey I need a hobby. And then I remembered:

I have a fucking hobby.

Hi, hobby!

a series of tiny disasters

Thursday, December 11th, 2014

  • Agnes gave me a black eye two weeks ago.
  • I fell down. Hard. While running. I keep saying that I didn’t hear the car that caused me to attempt the leap that led to the fall because it was a Prius (and I think that’s true) but also I was listening to Serial. My knees are still scabby and disgusting and totally unfitting the mature 33 year old woman I am.
  • I have a cold.
  • Maida needs medication every eight hours now cause epilepsy.
  • I have three zits, one of which I futzed with (read: picked at even though that is TOTALLY UNFITTING THE MATURE 33 YEAR OLD WOMAN I AM).
  • The little electric key thing that I got from my complex to get into the gym is somewhere. In one of the taped shut and meticulously labelled boxes in my closet, probably. Chances of the correct box getting unpacked before the complex expects to get the thing back: unknown.


In other news, I close on my new house on Monday.


well fuck me with a chainsaw

Tuesday, September 9th, 2014

Here’s how this was supposed to work.

My lease on my apartment originally ended Oct 15th.

My house was supposed to be done Oct 30th.

I checked with my complex and sure enough, for about one million dollars, I could stay through Nov 15th instead. Perfect. Well, not perfect, but not the end of the world.

Now the house is going to be done ‘sometime in November’ but understandably (construction is a bitch apparently?) no one is comfortable promising me that it will on or before the 15th. That means:

  • extending my lease through Dec 15th (for a second one million dollars, of course) OR
  • hoping for the best and putting all of my shit into storage on Nov 15th and commencing the couch surfing if it doesn’t work out

Neither of those are good choices.

I knew this was a possible outcome, and this is not an impossible situation. If I commit to the second extra month of rent, though, and then the house is done in late Nov, that doubled up mortgage/rent combo money is money that would otherwise go towards a washing machine. Can I live without a washing machine in December? Of course. People make that shit work all the time. I don’t actually know where there’s a laundromat in the suburban Front Range, but they must exist.

I just kept thinking ‘it’s going to work out fine’ because I couldn’t see an alternative. I’m actually really tempted to continue doing so.

Either way, I have to let the complex know by Friday. Nov 15th? Dec 15th? Anyone wanna vote?

walls shmalls

Thursday, August 21st, 2014

The salesperson for my house (it’s weird that I basically bought my house like out of a mall, right? Like, not from a person but from a company that has a salesperson?) says it’s her instinct that it’s not going to be done on it’s original completion date.

Apparently we’re in something of a super duper build party on the Front Range right now. There aren’t enough people who know how to do certain things, like … um, build houses. I don’t know, I’m not one of those people so that’s as granular as I can get. The deal is, framing, then roofing, then windows and exterior, then plumbing and electrical, then drywall and finishing.

I know that seems like a lot, but…


Doesn’t it kind of look done? Right??

No, obviously not done. I’m sure there are nails laying around, and I would probably get a lot of splinters, but … it’s so close! It’s an actual structure. It’s no longer a hole in the ground. Those are my windows! I mean, does a window really need glass? Technically? (Google says yes: “an opening in the wall or roof of a building or vehicle that is fitted with glass or other transparent material in a frame to admit light or air and allow people to see out”. I call bullshit.)

All I’m saying is that the original proposed completion date is 70 whole days away. It’s only been 78 days since I signed the contract in the first place, and definitely fewer than 70 since they broke ground. In 70 days this will be a livable structure. Will it have the floors and stuff I picked out? Perhaps not, but, you know. Simplicity is good.

Basically, I’m planning on moving in in 70 days whether they like it or not.