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[space-age pimpin']
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Rather than working or reading the latest New Yorker or doing anything remotely productive (the bags of garbage, the sinkful of dishes begging for my attention), I opted this evening to watch mind numbing television, to play in the bathtub, and to mimic the Hulk by way of green mud mask. Oh happy pores!
I am also awaiting the collapse of the car port in the back parking lot, which is weary with snow and ice and drooped so low that even I--all five foot two of me--has to duck reach my parked car underneath its roof (which if you are quiet enough, you can hear creak and moan, a death rattle in the works). And as much as I wouldn't mind suing my soon-to-be-former-landlord over a crushed car, such an situation would be inconvenient; my car is parked in the street. Pray that it is not "plowed in" tomorrow morning, as many cars are on my block.
Tomorrow is the last work day for the week, and for the year. Friday, another full day of work at the house followed by a night of something, I hope, as it will be New Year's Eve and all. I s'pose I shall browse the so-called clubs and bars for signs of weekend entertainment before heading to bed tonight. I wish I had extra cash sitting around; I'd take a flight to meet up with the lovely T. Rex and raise hell with her, bring in the oh five right! |
[Too.much.pink.]
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I'm watching this VH1 special on the V.S. Angels. It must suck to be that ugly. Geesh. |
[Sent home by the big boss]
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Technically, I am getting paid right now. The big boss told everyone to go home around 3:15 or so, not necessarily because Cincinnati is becoming a mini-Alaska right about now, but because it's the Christmas thing to do. I was planning on hitting the post office and bank on the way home, but that didn't happen, as my little snow-free area of the windshield was becoming smaller and smaller while heading up Central Parkway, and driving blind is not my specialty.
So, typing to return the circulation to my fingers, which were frostbitten while I manually removed chunks of snow and ice from my car after work, I am inspired by my friend Joe and his "Christmas Letter," included in the card I received this afternoon to write my own: "What has gone on in my life over the last 12 months."
January: I returned to work at Ray's Place, after Christmas break, refreshed, yet worried that a student I failed (due to his failure to show up to the last three weeks of class) would give me shit: he did. And my department head was less than supportive about the situation, even stooping so low as to "calling me out" for the things that this truant, dishonest, nimrod of a so-called student said about me. It was in January that I got my first gray hair, I think, and that I started taking Ambien and drinking heavily.
February: February was brought to you by the letter Q, for NyQuil and Quit. After six weeks of dealing with the bullshit that I often ranted about in this very journal, I wrote my department head: "I will not be returning next quarter. Sorry for the inconvenience." Though, I wasn't really sorry. During this time, in addition to working full time for Ray's Place, I worked part time for a much nicer group of folks, and I hunted for a new job--which isn't so easy when you only have two graduate degrees in English.
March: The end of the Winter term came and went. And this is when a former student began stalking me, by calling my parents house every day (My parents thinking it was a telemarketer never answered the phone after his first call and did not find out that this guy was a certified loonytoon until May). This continued through June.
April: The job hunt continued, as did my part time work. I began doing a freelance Web site for some local morons. I also received the first letter from my stalker.
May: I had two job interviews for the same job. After the second interview, I thought I didn't have the job. Sean and I headed to Fort Myers, FLA to get some sun and see his family and best friend, Mark. Seven hours after we returned, I had a third interview and got the job (bags under eyes and all!). I have been employed ever since!
Unfortunately, the morons mentioned earlier (in March) decided to dick me over with the whole Web site deal. As a result, I drug their names around in the dirt for a month or so, to let the anger out. I don't feel bad, as I'm sure they did the same thing.
Also in May, my parents received a letter from my stalker and realized that the "telemarketer" asking for me was, as I said before, a certified loonytoon. Complaints to the English department were made, the police were contacted, and I have been stalker-free since. Well, it wasn't that simple, but I must resist my urges to ramble on.
June: Funny, I don't remember much happening in June. Oh oh yes. My identity was borrowed. A bill with a check was ganked from my mailbox by some ghetto trash in late May. Early June rolls around, and my credit card company calls, asking about my payment (the payment, which--like always--I sent ten days early). Fake checks drawing from my checking account began to surface and my life was briefly turned on its head. All my money was reimbursed by the bank and I have learned a valuable lesson: don't put important stuff in the mailbox. Just don't.
July: Another fake check surfaced and was cashed, taking money plus a surcharge from my closed checking account. I complained, my money was returned, and my disdain for the ghetto and inner city folk grew once more.
August: I decided to start looking for a house. With stable income and all, I decided I was ready to take on a mortgage.
September: I had a crazy Bar Mitzvah weekend, and got to watch a Reds game from a box. It was rad. I also found a house that I liked, but it was terribly overpriced. I decided to bid on it anyway (see: October).
October: I made a bid on a 100-year-old Victorian home at the exact same time someone else did. Obviously, the other party's bid was better (I recently learned that he bid 118k, far higher than my 105k), which I think is crazy, considering the house was only valued at 87k just five years ago. So, a couple weeks later, I found house number 2, and made a bid, which was accepted. This is when the insurance-related chaos began!
November: After being denied home owners insurance because of the old wiring and fuse box in the house, I scrambled to find insurance, and was finally able to get insured just two days before closing, thanks to a co-worker whose brother-n-law is an independent agent. Thank you, Connie! Closing comes and goes, and Amanda buys herself a mortgage for her birthday: the gift that, yes, keeps on taking! Also, the day after closing, I celebrated my 27th birthday and mourned the fact that I was older than I have ever been.
December: November and December have been spent so far working on the house: making holes, tearing out walls, rewiring, installing outlets, repairing walls, plastering et cetera ad nauseam. It's not as bad as it sounds. Besides, I purchased the house for less than its appraisal price. So, I consider myself a winner. I have been employed full-time for seven months straight, own a house, and am able to sleep full nights without the help of prescription drugs given to me by my mother. And life is okay.
Ta-da. |
[Don't they come from Antwerp?]
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I have two more days of work this week, and just four more days to make any Christmas-related purchases. As a rule over the last few years, I do not buy Christmas gifts; money is always an issue. And things aren't any different this year, despite the fact that I have a new job, with benefits and fair pay. With my first mortgage payment on its way to National City and, still, one more month of rent to pay (let's not forget two Cinergy bills!), money is--as per usual--tight.
However, I have made an attempt to open the pockets a bit, because--if anything--I'm less of Grinch as I have been in past years: I don't have papers to grade, I have a new house that is MINE (okay, so the bank owns it, mostly), and there is little going on that is cause for stress or alarm. I managed to purchase a Christmas cards for family and few friends. And I did buy a couple items for my female relatives, but nothing worth ooing and ahhing over. I'll probably purchase a bag or two of corporate coffee and a Lowes or Home Depot gift card for my dad, who has been a gem lately with his knowledge of rewiring and plastering and lighting and joint cementing.
[[Non-sequitur: Is anyone watching the UC basketball game? Thank God for them, as clearly, Cincinnati's pro-football team isn't worth bragging about...]]
In other news, I did purchase a dining room set this weekend (yes, I know, I'm supposed to be broke). I responded to an ad in the paper: a table and six chairs for $450. The table from the 50s or 40s, the chairs from the 20s. After hearing about the spoils, I journeyed out to a colossal house in College Hill to make the transaction (pending I liked what I saw, and I did obviously).
Flashback to four or five or six weeks ago (they've been running together, lately): I was at an estate sale where my dad had espied a lovely dining room set for $450. By the time I arrived, they were bearing the red stickers of doom: They are sold.
Back to this weekend: After agreeing to purchase the table and chairs and discussing how they were to be transported to my parents' house (the seller packed up his truck and delivered them for me!), I saw the "new" table and chairs that replaced the furniture being sold to me. The chairs looked familiar, as did the feet of the table. I lifted the table cloth--lo and behold!--to see the estate-sale table that I was too slow to purchase! What.a.hoot.
The colossal College Hill home is worth talking about: The paintings covering nearly every inch of every wall, the collections, the art, the Christmas decor (nutcrackers, everywhere!), the shelves of books and books and books, the oddities, stoves, rocking chairs, and sewing machines in the basement from centuries past. I had to WD-40 myself to maneuver through the halls and dining rooms, I swear. How people can live that way is beyond me. My home must remain a clutter-free zone. Or I will die. |
[And a dime does not get spent!]
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The best way to save money during the holiday season:
Misplace your debit card. And cancel it, in case it is in someone else's hands. And wait seven to ten days to get a new one! Ta-da...
Saving money over Christmas could be as sweet as dropping weight during Thanksgiving weekend. We shall see.
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I've moved several boxes over to the house, yet this apartment still feels crammed. This weekend, I'll take over the small tv and its adjacent things: tv cart, vcr, dvd player, ad nauseam. Tomorrow, another inspection and a look at a 1920s dining-room set for sale in College Hill somewhere. Saturday will be for what, I'm not sure. It will probably involve more holes and dust.
Reminder to self: purchase cable from that place in Hartwell. Time Warner can kiss my pale ass. Pre-wiring fee, bah! Not when I can do the shit myself.
And finally, today was brought to me by the words:
"lissotrichy"
"torpidity"
"hysterectomy"
"bankruptcy"
"anomaly"
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[Common side effects are headaches and nausea]
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Today, I took a break from working on the house. Instead, after my "nine-to-fiver" that actually ends at 4:15, I came home, had a bit of a TV party, ate some fast food (I had fries for the first time in ages), and worked three hours from home. My first mortgage payment (AND my last rent payment) is due January 1. I've already written the check and filled out the coupon. All I need is a stamp.
I still haven't decided whether or not I'm buying title insurance. I'm sure there are better uses for two-hundred dollars and change. Like pay the two Cinergy bills for this month that I'll owe soon. Poo.
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[I'm so bad.]
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I'm drinking my third soda for the day (granted, it, like the others, is a diet-caffeine-free coke). Plus, after wiring my office today, I ate lunch with really, really, really dirty hands, because we had to shut off the water in the house to cut the kitchen sink pipes while taking out the cupboard and retro-paneling and sink and stuff.
Like really dirty. Like mechanic dirty.
My knuckles are still gray; my nails will need some serious lovin' after this home-improvement excursion. Plus, I think--if medical science has such a thing--I'd like to get a vacuum hooked to my lungs somehow to get the bits o' plaster that are rattling around in my chest. Ug.
I'll be sure take an extra vitamin tonight before hitting the hay. Pray that the scurvy or tetanus or rabies doesn't get me.
Now to consider: should I bother buying title insurance? It's like my asshole is a dollar dispenser. |
[A random note on Dec. 1]
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This is the first day since closing, I think, that I haven't had to work at the house or run some house-related errand. For this, I am grateful, My dad was over at the property today. I think he installed my bathroom light and fan. We will have the second floor wired completely by the end of this week. I decided not to give my 30-day notice today. It will be best to give is January 1. I think I'll need the extra month, especially with the holidays and the hours that I will be hoarded by family and coming-into-town types.
[[Tricia, you will have to let me know when you will be arriving for the annual "blitzkrieg" so I can make arrangements to drink gin and to yell obscenities with you this Christmas season. Unfortunately, since I do not have the token "Winter Pause" this year, having left academia for the Real World, I will be unavailable for weekday trips to the mall and Ambar India. I will, however, try to take a personal day or two, so never fear.]] |
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