In Which Our Heroine Despairs of Finding Enough Different Titles For This Month

4 September 2003

The pictures are up starting here, and I have two things to clarify. One is that Mark was indeed on the house-hunting trip. He's the one behind the camera in all the pictures. That's why there are pictures of me, Timprov, Ceej, and Anna Belle, but no Mark. The second is that the only picture of the basement is the one with the buses sign; the rest of the rooms are upstairs. The basement has the places already in to put walls, but it's otherwise unfinished.

The last thing is, I don't know how many of you read Terry Pratchett, so I wanted to point out that "no ----ing way" is actually pronounced "no 'ing way." This is one of my favorite Pratchettisms: that characters are saying that, and then it turns out that it isn't the book censoring them, it's what the characters are actually saying. We got an offer from some Ing Credit company or something like that, and oh, the hilarity, it just didn't stop ensuing.

Feel free to write and gush or quiz me about the new house.

The weird thing about buying a house, #57: half my spam now seems relevant. It isn't, actually, but it used to be that mortgage-related offers were as irrelevant to me as Viagra and propositions from people calling themselves Candi. Now they're in the category of "irrelevant, but closer." Strange.

Yesterday's monkey wrench was that we discovered that I had to sign the inspection addendum Anna Belle was faxing to Mark, and we had to fax it back within the same day. So I had to make a trip to Palo Alto on top of the rest of my agenda. Best case scenario, that's 45 minutes one way. Some of my errands got moved to today as a result: I didn't make it to the bank, the bridal store, the box store, or Trader Joe's. I believe that'll be a northerly trip today. We'll see. I also need to get a few more bits of paperwork requested from various and sundry folks -- affirmations of credit, mostly, things like our apartment people telling them we've been paying the rent on time for the whole time we've lived here.

So until after dinner, the only writing work I got done was that I wrote a page of "Silent Teraphim" in line at the post office. Which felt kind of hard-core even to me, but what are you going to do? And incidentally, why was the line at the post office long enough that I could warm-up-blather a little bit and still get a page of story written? Was it National Send Your Crap Away Day and nobody told me about it? I could see, once I got there, why I should have expected the office supply store to be really crowded: kids going back to school. But the post office? Why? The only time I've seen it that busy before was at Christmas.

But I had my journal with me, so I could at least be productive in line there. Yay for the journal. Yay for the purse that fits my journal comfortably.

I got my first issue of Midwest Living, a birthday present from Michelle and Scott, yesterday. It had some recipes that looked pretty nifty, but I doubt that I'll make the effort to make them until after we've moved. Then I'd feel comfortable about having half a bag of this and most of a container of that around, and I'll want to play in my new kitchen. It was strange to deal with a glossy magazine -- I really don't, mostly; even Realms is an occasional rather than a monthly read. The jarring thing for me was all the "continued in the back" stuff. Mark said it was to make their ads in the back worth something, but if they put whole articles back there, spaced just seems like it could work without always having people turning to page 176.

Read only a bit of Timescape before bed and with lunch. I'm remembering why it captivated me the first time around, but I'm not that physics-dazzled girl any more, and I've read a lot more SF. I still think it's good and worth reading, especially for people who are interested in physics or hard SF specifically. But it doesn't connect with me the way it used to.

Stan and Judy called last night and asked if we wanted to move our dinner plans from tonight to Sunday, and I gratefully accepted. The timing just seems much better, and we might get to squeeze in a little hike in the area of Mt. Tam before we go.

This morning I set up task lists for the weeks between now and October 26. I've already written to some people I'd like to make sure we see between now and then, but there are others still on my list to contact. Whichever group you're in, feel free to write to me if you want to hang out before we go, and I'll scowl at the schedule and juggle and figure something out if at all possible. I've been trying to be flexible at the beck and call of the mortgage being and the realtor this week or fortnight -- I don't want to miss a call or e-mail I need to handle right away and make things more difficult for us -- but that should ease off a bit, shouldn't it? Soon? Maybe?

It just seems to get louder and louder around here. My favorite little girl in the complex, Annalina, is going through a stage where she screams if she doesn't get her way. This is not her most charming trait. The neighbors continue to holler at each other. Also, it seems that the maintenance beings have something loud to do every day in the morning. Spraying down the buildings, mowing, blowing the leaves, trimming the's always something. So the quiet from kids being gone at school is not a factor during the day, because the maintenance beings have stepped in to fill that void. Thanks, maintenance beings!

I don't think I'm cranky today, but it may be a matter of definitions. I'm feeling...stretched. And not in the yoga sense (although that's not an entirely bad idea). Last time we moved, I got my first ever bladder infection. Whee, that was fun. So there's a part of me that wants to be sucking down cranberry juice like there's no tomorrow, starting now, just so that any germs that might think of coming near me are severely frightened, and hightail it out of here. And then there's part of me that remembers what a PITA it was to try to come up with things I liked that weren't acidic, so I don't want to live on cranberries and mess up my mouth again. But my impulses are mostly like that, conflicted and relating to things that involve immediate action and delayed consequences.

Immediate action now should be getting in the shower, then going down to arrange things with the apartment office. Right then. So that's what I'll do, immediately right now. Sort of. Immediatelyish.

Back to Novel Gazing.

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