Last night our friend Dave dropped by with a full-size Ford pickup, and within about twenty minutes we filled it with boxes, crates, and other square gear for transport to storage. After a nail-biting trip across town (stupid dumb Harbor Tunnel) we unloaded and took him to dinner at Kelsey’s Irish Pub. This morning, besides the empty space where the mountian of boxes used to be, this place doesn’t look anything different.
Beginning to wonder about the origins of my house, I found this site this morning: Sears Modern Homes. I don’t think the new house is a Sears model, but I do see a few familiar designs in there. Also: the site that took me to this one, chock full of great links: Retrolounge.
Slashdot ran an article about identity theft last evening, and there was a tidbit of interesting information amidst the fames and paranoia: This link on fake SSNs.
In other news, the Maryland Motor Vehicle Administration got blasted by that new virus thing yesterday, which forced them to shut their computers down for the day. Remarkably, service times actually increased.
So I started putting the assorted debris of my life into boxes the other night; starting with the office upstairs I took all the stuff off my shelves and arranged it neatly into two boxes which each weigh about as much as an import car. Moving is fun because you start to enforce the 5-second rule—when you hold some piece of crap over the open box and decide within five seconds whether you care enough about it to carry it down a flight of stairs, into a box truck, across town, and back up a flight of stairs, or to chuck it. Chances are, you’ll say no. Which means you gather a pile of stuff in front of your door which either waits for a trip to the dump or Goodwill. And then you get to where you’ve moved to and can’t find that thing you need because you 5-seconded it and now you have to go out to get a new one. (Can you tell I’ve done this before?)
I got my collection of tube radios packed tonight, along with antique cameras, pictures, and pretty much anything else not bolted to the floor in the living room. (Note to my friends who have agreed to help move: I’ve kept the boxes light. Really.) Next up are the assorted loose items in the basement, and then I’ll work upstairs to the bedrooms.
In other news, it looks like AppleScript, which I was able to learn and use in 15 minutes on OS9, is crippled in OSX. All I want to do is build a small script to update a file remotely. From all I can find so far (and from the Finder Dictionary), Copy isn’t even supported in OSX. And the Finder isn’t scriptable using drag-and-drop. Dammit. I don’t have three weeks to devote to learning the stupid language in the first place.
Last night I spent about 45 minutes at the Lowe’s looking at the various and sundry refrigerators for sale. Life is not a simple choice of almond, white or yellow anymore; These days there’s brushed metal (a pain in the ass if you have kids; metal picks up fingerprints like sprinkles on ice cream) and black (who in their right mind buys a black fridge? you might as well just start pissing on the floor, because that’s not gonna help resell your house.) There’s also the added complication of the side-by-side vs. the over-under (or, to really complicate things, the top fridge and chest freezer underneath, a la my Grandma.) If we get the side-by-side, we can have the ice/water dispenser, negating our Brita and Pur pitchers. But Jen’s an over-under woman, which means we’ll be spending less (seems like the side-by-sides are $200 more, on average.)
In other news, this does not mean good things for our current project. After our team busted asses to develop a beautiful demo, the whole project was cancelled. Dammit.
myself, stas, jeff, and jon 7.26.03
We’re back from our trip northward to New York to attend the wedding; my fears were unfounded and we had a great time. I was able to connect back up with some old friends, catch up with people, and help celebrate Stas’ wedding. (When was the last time you heard “Enter Sandman” at a wedding? No, really. Played by a great cover band called The Nerds. It was better than you’re imagining.) I’ve posted a few pictures here. It was great to see everybody, and please stay in touch!
Looks like the house stuff is on track (when all this is over with, and the papers are signed, I may write about the process, but for right now I’m going to hold my tongue) and DSL is available at that address, which means we’re getting broadband hooked up immediately. Cable will most likely wait until later; the other major issue is wireless service. I’m doing some preliminary investigation into which service offers the most for a two-phone shared plan. More info to follow, and any input is welcome…
A very PBS night. Not ony did I get swept up into the Seabiscuit episode of American Experience, but after that I got sucked into Blues Story. I am now fighting the urge to buy hundreds of dollars worth of music from the iTunes store. The best part of the whole thing was watching Teller, who had nestled comfortably between my legs for a nap, jump four feet in the air when Big Mama Thornton suddenly belted out a verse about her low-down cheating man.
Today I’m at work, wondering how the inspection is going/went on my house. There are other things going on that I’d rather not write about here, but let’s say that I’m averaging 5 hours of sleep each night and I’m as jumpy as a cat. I don’t know if any of this is going to go through, and I’m worried and nervous. Isn’t life swell?
I’m about as low as a brother gets here.
I’m averaging about 5 hours of very crappy sleep this week, and I’m popping Tums like they’re M&M’s. I now remember why I wasn’t looking forward to buying a new house. Plus, Jen and I sat down and did our post-purchase budgeting to see what we could bank for a wedding, based on her current income and mine. Let’s just say it’s going to be a squeaky nine months until next May. Squeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeee-ky.
Date posted: July 17, 2003 | Filed under house, humor | Leave a Comment »
We are still waiting for the word back from the sellers. Stay tuned.
Update: What a miserable, nerve-wracking, screwed-up day this has been.
Two things from yesterday: We did the house inspection; More on that later. The important thing is to say Happy Birthday, Mom!
Today I’m grooving out to some old Bad Brains stuff I ripped years ago. I stopped over at Jen’s this morning to fix her air conditioner and pick up some stuff; then I drove to the house and parked in the driveway for a minute. Timing the drive at 9:30, I was able to make it to work in about 25 minutes, which is about the same amount of time it takes to get out of Canton to work, with less traffic.
I love Baltimore. I love the freaky ice cream truck outside my house at 7pm every night. I love driving three blocks further to find a parking spot at night. I love helicopters hovering over my house. I love the little woman who’s worn a housedress for the entire six years I’ve been on this block. I love thirteen year old boys walking pit bulls. I love twelve year old hoochie girls pushing baby carriages (and not for the reasons you think, you perv.) I love Formstone. I love hot asphalt in August. I love the smell of rain on pavement in the evening. I love my neighbors because they stoop when the sun is low and the air is cool. I love living right up on my neighbors and the fact that they check up on me. I love the kid on the two-stroke scooter that I can’t see in my rearview mirror. I love the rise in my heart rate when I walk home from my car late at night. I love the neighborhood bars and the people that are in them when I’m leaving for work in the morning. I love the good-looking Yuppies that surround me. I love the old-school Cantonites that still live here. I love marble steps, and the fact that I’ve owned a set. I love chicken-wire skylights. I love Highlandtown and Canton and Hampden and Pigtown and Bolton Hill. I love the alterno-kids that make me feel old when I go to bars to shoot pool. I love the bars that don’t exist any more where I used to drink—Tio Loco’s, Wroten’s, Miss Bonnie’s Elvis Shrine, and Lista’s (the top deck only.) I love the Harbor and everything about it. I love to see the old advertising signs fading on the brick throughout the city. I love motorcycles out in front of the Daily Grind. I love cobblestones under the tires of my bike. I love the shiny breasts on the statue outside Johns Hopkins university. I love all the apartments I’ve lived in throughout the city.
There’s a “Sold” sign on the steps outside my house this evening.
I’m filling out the music library this afternoon with a few gems: Ozzy’s Crazy Train, G & R’s It’s so Easy, and ZZ Top’s Cheap Sunglasses. Ahh, bringing back the old days.
I put up some pictures of our trip to my folks’ house this morning: Enjoy.
(Nervously eyeing the latest reports on unemployment and economic news) The house update is that we’re on track for a late August closing date, barring any bizarre finds in the inspections. Hopefully each house will pass muster.
Science project of the week: I’m rebuilding a 3Com SuperStack II, which I found laying in the garbage here at work. Unable to pass up a choice bit of technology, I fished it out and pulled it apart to find two fried cooler fans. A quick stop at a cooling fan site, $10.40 later, and I should have two identical fans by Friday.
. . .
I’m happy to answer the door, even when I don’t know who you are. I’m happy to come outside and move my truck, because it’s in front of your house, and you want to bring in a dumpster to begin gutting it. I’m happy to make small talk with you. I’m happy to tell you that I’ve just gone to contract on my house.
I’m not happy when you ask me how much I sold my house for, when you’ve never once said hello to me in the three years you’ve lived on the block, and you don’t know what my name is, and you don’t bother to ask. It’s none of your business. Read it in the fucking paper.