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the latest waddle:

good morning, wordpress - 10:36 a.m. , 2009-07-03

elaborate murder attempt - 2:56 p.m. , 2009-07-01

building a tractor in the basement - 10:42 a.m. , 2009-06-19

ask no questions tell just a few lies - 3:17 p.m. , 2009-06-09

my long lasting flavor really lasts long - 1:10 p.m. , 2009-06-04

2000-06-02 ... 15:26:13

I am happily ensconced in my new condo. Very thrilled to be there. To the point where I'm getting all girly about my kitchen, and getting excited when it's time to run the dishwasher, etc. Sheesh. I'm sure I'll get over myself eventually.

We did not have a dishwasher growing up, and I think I'm getting the hang of it now, which is good since my one and only previous experience with using a dishwasher prior to now was a disaster. Back when LT and I were dating, his dad went out of town for a weekend and we took the opportunity to spend it at his place, sort of playing house and getting away from campus for a while. On Saturday LT went to run an errand, and I'm all like, "la la la," being the happy homemaker and shit, and decide to be helpful and run the dishwasher. Which I do not know how to use. I grab the liquid soap off of the sink and FILL up that little dispenser, shut the door, push some buttons, and go to another part of the house to read, feeling very pleased with myself.

Needless to say, when I came back into the kitchen, it was like being at some poorly designed rave. The suds were up to my waist, folks, and the machine was still churning. I started flailing around with towels and mops, which were woefully unequipped for a task of that magnitude. Of course I'm cursing at the top of my lungs too as I try to wade through the wall of suds to get to the dishwasher to turn it off.

In the middle of all this LT comes home, stands there in the doorway looking at the situation, turns to me and says basically the only thing one could say at that point:

"Okay, Lucy. 'Splain."

I love that man. OK, back to the present.

Moving went smoothly (if sweatily), but closing on the house did not. Basically, my scatterbrained lawyer didn't give me the right "final numbers" (ie, the amount of $ to bring). The figure had been revised three times, and there were different faxes and different voice mails involved, and she was looking at one fax and I was looking at another when we talked on the phone, and when I said, "Is this all I have to bring?" (since we were cutting it a bit close in terms of available cash) she said "Yup, that's all".....but I never actually said the amount out loud to her, and she never actually said the amount out loud to me, and if we had, the error, in all its glory, would have been revealed. So the upshot is we didn't bring enough cash. Now this was upsetting at the time, but in retrospect it was sort of cool, because it gave LT a chance to get on the cell phone in the middle of the meeting and call our broker and get him to sell some stock and wire transfer the funds to our checking account, which of course gave LT immense Looking Like a Big Shot satisfaction. Everyone was very cool about holding up the deed until the following day, and now it's done and all over and we are property owners and beholden to a bank and no longer fancy free. Whew.

The other night I watched the Lakers game (we have no cable yet, and only NBC comes in clearly) and read Portrait of a Lady at the same time, which cracked my husband up. However, I personally do not think the NBA and Henry James are incompatible. So there.

--mimi "20% equity" smartypants


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