Tired.

*sighs*

Pain.

*cracks neck and back*

Sand in every intimate nook and cranny of my body.

*dusts off to no avail*

That pretty much sums up my physical and mental states right now, and likely for the next few weeks. Lady and I have taken possession of the house and are working feverishly to complete a specific task list before mid-October so we can move our stuff, and ourselves in. The list includes painting every paintable surface, grounding every receptacle, wiring a few new receptacles and lights, and running communication wires — telephone, Ethernet and cable-tv to be precise. Other tasks to be done (but not by us) include alarm installation and replacing the power fuse panels with breaker mains.

I’ve been crawling around under the house like a Viet Cong tunnel-rat, running wires to all of the outlets in the house in an effort to ground them to protect my electronics and myself. The house is raised, and the previous owners had done a marvelous job of laying down 10 mil sheeting under there and having sand pumped in. The net result is a clean and dry environment to work in — a refreshing change from the rest of the houses in New Orleans I’ve worked under.

Unfortunately, sand is prone to get pretty much everywhere it can within your clothes, hair and anywhere else not hermetically sealed on your body. It also has a very fine texture, so it sticks to your skin, especially if you’ve been sweating. There are also spots where I must crawl under pipes, sometimes using my feet to push me along while laying on my back. Did you know that the back pockets of jeans make wonderful scoop shovels? The last time I had to undress in the shower was over thirteen years ago when I would attend The Rocky Horror Picture Show twice a weekend, every weekend for several years, and that was to shake the rice out of my underwear (you young-uns probably have no idea what I’m talking about).

There is 36" of space in some spots to work in, but that still means spending hours at a time hunched over or crawling on elbows and knees. It’s finally starting to take a toll on my back after doing it for four days in a row. I woke up this morning with the distinct feeling that several of my vertebrae had fused. They’re just now settling down into a sharp throbbing pain.

Joy.

Lady has spent days prepping the walls for painting and will get a start on them very soon. I don’t envy her that job, as it’s as much a pain-in-the-ass as my "underground railroad" is. Three coats of paint — one of primer and two of color — on every surface of every room (minus the floor and woodwork) except the den, which has paneling. I’m quite sure that her back will be killing her before long. I have tried to make the job easier by getting her a Power Roller to help speed things along (and once more, I live up to my "Stuff" namesake).

We did, however, take a break from our toils this weekend to visit with the ever distant GonzO and Heather who were in town from far west for Michelle and Raul’s wedding. As Snap points out, we’d sweat during the day, clean ourselves up, and hang out and party all night long. We did the same for the day of the wedding. We were exhausted, but it was so worth it. It’s always a delight and joy to hang out with GonzO and Heather when they’re in town. They make the otherwise fantastic rogue’s gallery we have here locally even more complete. Cheers to you guys, and I can’t wait until you’re permanent residents down here in this sweaty dungeon once again. I’m going to confiscate and destroy your continental passports, and you’ll never be able to leave again. So there.

We never have any fun with you guys.

We also had a gaggle of the local crew (and not-so-local crew) over to the house to see it mid-construction. I was, and still am, amazed at the honest-to-$diety interest that everyone showed for the house. I thought for sure that I would get the same glazed look that people get when parents start talking about their kids to non-parents, but no. Everyone wanted to know more, and to poke around in every deep, dark recess of the house to see more. Sancho even went so far as to slip under the house and crawl around like a hyperactive salamander for a few minutes. It pleases me to no end to know that folks are happy for us, and our new home. It’s likely to be ground zero for some memorable get-togethers (more likely hard-to-remember afterwards get-togethers).

Back to Michelle and Raul’s wedding.

It was fantastic, and everything a good wedding should be. It was not held in a church, but instead in neutral territory. The reception was held right there, commencing as soon as the ceremony was over — no traveling from one place to another. The ceremony itself was simple, sweet and elegant, performed by someone close to the hearts of the bride and groom. Michelle was stunning in her gown and Raul was handsome in his tuxedo. Everyone looked and played nice. The food was superb. What more could you ask for on such an important day?

Congratulations you two. Safe journey on this, the next portion of your lives together. I’m extremely happy for you both.

Ah well. I guess it’s time to return to the sand mines. When you see me in my spinal brace, be sure to remind me how wonderful this house is.

DeJockamo would have wanted it that way.

Yo.

Today has to be one of the most bi-polar days I have experienced in my life.

Ever.

First, I’ll start with the low so that I might end on an up tone. It’s also the proper chronological order of the day.

Lady and I have had two adorable, well mannered, and sweet little ferrets as pets for many years now — since they were kits. They are Silk and Fagan, and their ages are six and seven years old, respectively. That’s a pretty healthy age for ferrets to achieve — they are grand old dames.

Ferrets develop some nasty problems as they get older, and usually complications from these problems are what do them in. About a year ago, Silk had her spleen removed as it had become grossly enlarged, the size of a hot-dog, and that’s awfully big for a two pound ferret. She recovered quite well, becoming more active as she become accustomed to not having a mass that was about one third of her body mass lodged in her abdomen.

Not long thereafter, Silk was diagnosed with insulinoma (the opposite of diabetes), one of the big three diseases that ferrets develop as they become geriatric. The good news is it was treatable — for a while — but ultimately would be fatal. How long, who knows. Two months, two years. It was different for every critter. We started giving her medicine twice a day, and she rallied back quite well, but being the old maid that she was, she was moving a little slower. A few months later Fagan was also diagnosed with insulinoma, but hey, we were already old hands at administering medicine to the other fuzzy-butt so this was no problem.

About two months ago at a regularly scheduled visit, the Doc found a growth in Silk’s mouth and we had it tested. The results came back positive for cancer. We had two options available to us. Chemotherapy, which would only extend her life a little while but would destroy the quality of it, or let it go and keep her quality of life as high as we could. We chose to keep her comfortable and monitor her for pain or trouble until the inevitable day came that we would have to make the hardest choice we’ve had to make since Silk entered our lives.

Today was that day.

Two weeks ago, we had a scare and brought her to see the Doc. He noted that the cancerous tumor in her mouth had grown a bit, but not as much as he had expected. She was still quite active and she wasn’t exhibiting any signs of discomfort. He saw no reason that we couldn’t take her home and continue showering her with love for a while yet, but the clock was ticking. Fast.

The last few days found Silk more and more lethargic. This morning she was unresponsive for a while and had trouble eating her morning "treat" which is a concoction called Duck Soup, laced with her medicine. Lady decided to take her to work with her with the intent of getting her to the Doc, knowing that today might well be the day. Doc confirmed that Silk had reached a downward slope.

It’s one of the hardest things I’ve had to do in a while. Silk transcended mere pet status — she was family. I loved that little critter so much. Lady and I said our goodbyes. I stroked Silk’s back, let her know I loved her and apologized. I apologized for not being able to do more, and apologized for not being able to perform the god-like ability of eradicating her troubles and removing her cancer and insulinoma and letting her live an immortal life till the end of time. Instead, all I could do was exorcize the human-like ability to end her suffering before it had become overwhelming.

Today, Silk Liselle Matherne crossed the rainbow bridge, and now plays for eternity with all beloved pets that have gone before her. I love you, my little Silky-doo. Be good and play nice. You take a tiny nibble of my heart with you as you go.

——————————————–

Now that I’ve got you all good and depressed, I’ll hit you with the good news for the day. Lady and I closed on our house today. It’s all legal and everything. We signed more documents than Lucifer himself would present to you to procure legal ownership of your soul. Ol’ pointy-tail ain’t got nothing on American property lawyers.

The last week had been a waiting game. We had all of our paperwork in order, and I kept feeling a sense of impending doom, as though we had forgotten or missed some crucial component. I was waiting for the jack-in-the-box to pop at the signing today.

"I’m sorry Mr. DmentD, you’re genetic test turned up a negative result in the "property ownership" chromosome field. We just got the results back from the lab five minutes ago. Put that pen down, you won’t need to sign any more documents today."

Instead, it all went smoothly in comparison to the road we traveled to get to this point. I didn’t even get so much as a writer’s cramp. Go figure.

We have just entered the next unique phase of this deal. We have to wait until next Tuesday before we can actually take possession of the house. The old couple we bought it from cannot vacate until Monday, as the retirement community they are moving to won’t be ready for them until then. No problem. We’ll just go quietly out of our minds until then, thinking of all the things we have to do before we put one stick of furniture in there, and all the money we have to spend to do it.

No problem. I can do it on my head.

Is it time yet? No? Damn. I fail.

Soon, my peoples, soon. There will be much fun to be had, games to be played, movies to be watched and general hanging out to be done.

Now, go and love your pets, or failing that, love someone else’s. That’s an order.

I lieu of actually getting down to the business of posting something deep and meaningful of my own, I’ll post something deep and meaningful from someone else.

I’m a fan of Elvis Costello. He’s an excellent songwriter, composer and performer. He also proved that you can be angry, angsty and full of venom, and convey that through music without having to resort to being backed up by a four piece heavy metal band, or come from Seattle where actually learning the power chords is optional. This is not to say I don’t enjoy the music of those two genres — I do — I just have an appreciation for someone who can do it in an intelligent and witty manner, backed by either a full orchestra, or even just a single acoustic guitar.

The album Spike is my favorite, hailing from back in 1989. It has some of my favorite songs on it. Tramp The Dirt Down is a vicious jab at Margaret Thatcher and her ways of treating England as her own personal whore ("and when they finally put you in the ground, I’ll stand on your grave and tramp the dirt down") and Miss Macbeth is a little ditty about an old-maid elementary school teacher who is portrayed as, literally, an evil witch of a woman ("and as they tormented her she rose to the bait, even a scapegoat must have someone to hate"). My personal favorite is God’s Comic. Here, I’ll let you read the lyrics for yourself.

God’s Comic
————–

I wish you’d known me when I was alive
I was a funny feller
The crowd would hoot and holler for more
I wore a drunk’s red nose for applause
Oh yes, I was a comical priest
"With a joke for the flock and a hand up your fleece"
Drooling the drink and the lipstick and greasepaint
Down the cardboard front of my dirty dog-collar

CHORUS:
Now I’m dead, now I’m dead, now I’m dead, now I’m dead
And I’m going on to meet my reward
I was scared, I was scared, I was scared, I was scared
He might of never heard God’s Comic

So there he was on a water-bed
Drinking a cola of a mystery brand
Reading an airport novelette
Listening to Andrew Lloyd-Webber’s "Requiem"
He said, before it had really begun
"I prefer the one about my son"
"I’ve been wading through all this unbelievable junk and"
"Wondering if I should have given the world to the monkeys"

CHORUS:
Now I’m dead, now I’m dead, now I’m dead, now I’m dead
And I’m going on to meet my reward
I was scared, I was scared, I was scared, I was scared
He might of never heard God’s Comic

I’m going to take a little trip
Down Paradise’s endless shores
They say that travel broadens the mind
‘Til you can’t get your head out of doors

I’m sitting here on the top of the world,
I hang around in the longest night
Until each beast has gone to bed
And then I say "God bless" and put out the light…

…While you lie in the dark, afraid to breathe
And you beg and you promise and you bargain and you plead
Sometimes you confuse me with Santa Claus
It’s the big white beard I suppose
I’m going up to the pole, where you folks die of cold
I might be gone for a while if you need me

CHORUS:
Now I’m dead, now I’m dead, now I’m dead, now I’m dead
And you’re all going on to meet your reward
Are you scared, are you scared, are you scared, are you scared?
You might have never heard, but God’s comic

Get, or "get" the album and give the rest a listen. I know there are at least a handful of you who will really enjoy it as much as I do.

Well, we punched those last two sonofabitch sharks square in the nose.  We are cleared to close on the house with only minor details to wrap up between now and September 8th.  At last, we can drift for a while.

*heavy sigh*

Lady and I scheduled some time to go and take measurements at the house yesterday.  We originally intended only to measure the windows so we could order wood blinds while they are on sale and obscenely inexpensive, but we ended up measuring the entire interior of the house, making notes as to the positioning of the doors and windows.  Then, being the OCD duo that we are, we immediately sat down and created a computer-generated scale drawing of the house so we can figure out where all of our scale modeled furniture will fit in the floor plan.  That will save us a tremendous amount of time moving crap around when we go to put it all in the house.

I told you, we’re very detail oriented people (aka, obsessive).

We’ve got our colors picked out for painting, and I’m not looking forward to removing the existing wallpaper that’s up first.  I.  Hate.  Wallpaper.  Fortunately, it’s not on every wall of the house, just a few.

I’m am, however, looking forward (oddly enough) to wiring the place for phone, Ethernet and cable tv.  The elderly couple didn’t have cable tv, and only two phones in the entire house with hideously antiquated wiring leading to them.  I get to pull it all from scratch.  I am going to wire the house in a logical and high-tech manner utilizing the fanciest of telephone and video distribution technology, as well as a patch panel that will allow me to switch my lines between telephone and Ethernet as needed.

There are a handful of other things that need doing before we can move in, but no really major projects — just a little updating.  The kitchen and bathroom need modernizing, but that can come later – everything works just fine for now.

The time creeps closer, my children.  We will actually be able to have people over to our place for a change, and believe me, our place is designed for having fun.

I’m going to give everyone who has never been through the Machiavellian process of buying a house a little tip to prepare them for the experience:

You will never, ever be fully prepared for the experience of buying a house.

At the beginning of this foray I was operating under the misguided assumption that actually finding a house that I wanted, in the right neighborhood, the right size and at the right price was the hardest part of this little venture. We spent years mentally and financially preparing for this, going so far as to move back in — for as long as it took — with my mother in order to eliminate as much of the extra financial baggage we’ve gathered up over the years. Anyone who knows my history will realize that this was a "trial of Job." Once we were in a better spot and the interest rates had plummeted low enough, we set out to see about a loan and to find the perfect domicile.

Getting a loan estimate is easy. Any homeless guy on a street corner can give you one. Our debt-to-income ratio was dandy, so we qualified for a decent sum right off the bat. "That wasn’t so hard," I said to myself. Fool!

We then proceeded to spend a helluva’ lot of time looking at houses. Our tastes being what they are, we saw a lot of nice places that didn’t suit us. We continued to search. The hunt went on. And on. We looked high and low, the whole while the interest rates dropped further, and then silently crept back up without making so much as a peep. We were starting to get a little worried that we would never find a place to our liking, much less before the rates were high again. Still, we weren’t going to compromise and settle for a piece ‘o crap just to keep our interest rate low.

Then we got a lucky break. Our agent told us about a house in one of the nicer neighborhoods we had been sniffing around and it hadn’t even been put on the market yet. We would have a chance to snipe this place before anyone else had set foot in it… provided it was to our liking. We got the address and drove past it two days before we were slated to see it officially. We were pleased with what we saw, considering what they were asking for it. Holy smokes, it looked great on the outside, if not a teensy bit small. Here’s hoping it’s nice inside.

It was.

We were supposed to go look at five houses that night, this one being the first. We never made it to the other four, we had however driven past them a few days before, and so had a partial opinion on them. What, you think we don’t do our homework? C’mon, this is Stuff and Lady we’re talking about here.

One foot over the threshold, and the good vibes struck instantly. The place was immaculate. The old folks living there now (the original owners, by the way) took spectacular care of the house and property. It was a little dated, but in great shape. We can always modernize the place as we go.

At 5:30pm we were shown the house. We went back to the real estate office, wrote up a bid on the house and submitted it at 7:30pm. By 9:00pm the bid was accepted, and we were under contract. Talk about fortune smiling on us.

That was when life got difficult.

There are so many things to accomplish in the thirty day contract period between the acceptance of the bid and closing. Our house owning friends gave us lots of advice, but they didn’t prepare us for everything. I will find myself in the middle of a discussion with them about our latest home purchasing nightmare, and they’ll interrupt and say "Oh yeah, I remember going through that, it was rough." and all I can reply is "Gee, thanks a lot! You could have mentioned that when you were giving me your self-proclaimed ‘comprehensive report’ of what pitfalls to expect. Fuck! Would have been nice to see THAT one coming".

In the beginning I started likening the whole experience to taking a walk and getting stones in your shoe. While it doesn’t keep you from reaching your destination, you do have to stop, take your shoe off and shake the stone out before you continue.

Fuck that. I was very, very wrong.

My new, and more appropriate analogy is that the boat you willingly boarded has sunk in the ocean and you have to swim to shore. There are fins circling in the water ahead of you. You don’t know which of them are sharks, and which are dolphins. The sharks will take a chunk out of your ass, and the dolphins will, at best, look at you with a great deal of indifference. You can, if your will is strong, punch a shark square in the nose to drive it away with no guarantee that it will not come back more pissed off than before.

We’ve knocked the crap out of our share of sharks on this little swim. Our fists are getting sore, and it’s getting harder to keep our heads above the water. There are only two fins directly ahead of us, and if our luck holds out, they’ll turn out to be a pair of friendly dolphins that will leave us the fuck alone. After that, all we have to do is cling to a piece of flotsam and drift to shore.

There are so many things to do, get, sign, arrange and pay for before you can close on a house. You better make damned sure the funds for your down payment and closing costs are from an über legitimate source — monetary gifts do not count unless you’ve had them in the bank for a long while. Have an extra, extra reserve of cash on hand for the unforeseen expenses that are unavoidably going to surface. Get your debt as low as you can. Don’t jump on a FHA loan first thing; you’ll make out better with a conventional one. Put as much down on the house as you can at the time of purchase — the closer to 20% the better — unless you go FHA, then it won’t matter.

That’s just the few common sense details I can list. I don’t have the energy to go any further. I’m water logged, cold, and looking for the nearest bit of floating debris to hold on to.

Fucking sharks.

I’m exhausted.

Tonight, Lady and I submitted a bid on a house, which was consequently accepted. It happened that fast — about 2 hours. The house never even hit the open market, and had it, it would have lasted as long as a Black Angus steer in a piranha stream. Next come the inspections to make sure it’s not a clunker. Nonexistent deity, help me.

It’s a little smaller than we would have liked, but it’s perfect for our budget. The neighborhood is great, the house is immaculate — with the exception of some modernization — and the back yard & patio are made for entertaining and partying. All of our shit will fit in there comfortably, and it’ll be nice to get it all out of storage.

Crap, I hope we get this house. After months of searching, we’ve finally found a bona-fide winner. Both Lady and I got fantastic vibes from the second we walked in the door. It’s a warm and welcome house with New Orleans charm and has seen many years of tender loving care by the folks we’re buying it from, who are the original owners, by the by. This house has seen a lot of good times, and it’s going to see a heap more if we can get in there.

We’ll even have our own Tiki god to watch over us, if they leave him.

I’m exhausted. My brain is stew, and the stress is only beginning. I’m going to pass out for a while.

It’s been a busy-as-da-fuck weekend. Friday evening started at a luau party and ended with the previously posted party at Jabba Jaws that had me marveling at Krazy’s mixologist and bedside manner skills. As an update, Mensa got totally pickled and still has trouble remembering most of the evening at Jabba Jaws, so… money well spent, I guess. Thanks goes to Pounders for stepping up and keeping him from going toxic.

Had a nice Saturday afternoon tooling around Magazine St. with Pounders hitting Brew Ha-Ha for a fermentation bucket and a guided tour of the place. I think I’ve been bitten by the home-brew bug courtesy of that loveable lug, and I’m easing into it slowly by making several varieties of "bounce", which require patience but no actual brewing skill. Coming to a liver near you… blueberry, raspberry and cherry bounce — in honor of my dad who used to make a wicked wild cherry bounce. It’s all downhill from here.

After Brew Ha-Ha, we stopped as Juan’s Flying Burrito for a bite to eat, and let me tell you it was tasty as all get out. Unfortunately, Juan played two encores and made several curtain calls a few short hours afterward — Thirteen & Stirfry, I sincerely hope the contractor can rebuild your guest bathroom and get the scorch marks off of the porcelain. Which brings me to the visit to their house where the Lady and I played one enjoyable, but painful to my lower intestine game of Cranium (owing to Juan making several comebacks).

Sunday was spent shopping for cherries and booze to make the bounce. I spent more hours than I care to count pitting fresh bing cherries today. My fucking back is killing me. Do you know it takes a metric ass-ton of cherries and brandy to make cherry bounce? Holy crap! It’s for a good cause, though… World Domination Through Intoxication. Yeah, I’m fighting for Ponders’ cause.

There’s a bit of fun for you here. It’s a bunch of contestants on a Japanese talent game show performing a live-action Matrix type of ping-pong game. Very well orchestrated, and clever to boot.

Lady, Mensa and I went to the big bash at Jabba Jaws tonight, and it seems to have been a rousing success. Krazy was truly in his element, and I don’t think I’ve seen him this happy in a long time. He was busy — overwhelmingly so at times — but he handled the rushes with a grace and speed conceived from years of playing the perfect host during the Mardi Gras season. He seems to have found a comfortable niche, and the niche has found him.

I was asked if I enjoyed the party tonight, and I did, but not for reasons most would expect. I’m no party-boy by any stretch of the imagination. I’m more of a homebody kinda guy, but I like to have people in my home, so it all balances out. Going to this party for the party’s sake isn’t what stirred me. I went to support my friend at a time and place that was Important to him. Yes, important with a capital "I".

It was a landmark moment in Krazy’s new career, and I wanted to share that with him because it means a lot to him to have his friends around at times like these. It made me happy to see him gliding around like a whirling dervish behind the bar, pouring out drinks and popping the tops off of beer bottles with a deft flick of the wrist, never once looking at his belt when drawing or sheathing his opener.

Never did that satisfied half-grin leave his face, even when he screwed up his expression with confusion at something, or dissatisfaction with the other bonehead behind the bar who kept getting in his way and screwing up his flow. That is what made me happy, to sense the waves of glory emanating from Krazy and to know that I might have contributed to it a little bit by showing up and hanging out. Of course, I also wanted to make sure that I had a hand in him going home a few duckets heavier at the end of the night so I tipped as well as I could for the few beers that I had.

Congrats Krazy, and I’m glad Dame Fortune has finally turned her pretty face your way. Let’s hope she watches you for a while. Vincero!

I have found someone worthy of my heartfelt respect and admiration. This lady here writes with such elegance and ease, and wields the sharpest tongue I have seen in many a year. She makes me look like a fucking boyscout with a serious mission to earn his place in heaven early in life.

Check out the rest of her site, dooce.com, but you might want to start here, where she not only tells you a little about herself, but links to some very tasty entries to read, including that gem I linked up top.

Oh, and if you want to jump into some fairly funny shit right away, go straight here.

Hello and welcome to DmentD’s eddying, sucking void of time. I’ve managed to broadcast this message to the outside world utilizing the raw power of my will, boosted by regular caffeine injections administered directly to the base of my skull.

So, Lady and I are still on the great house-hunting safari and we have one interesting prospect in mind, but there are… complications. To start with, buying a house is a nerve racking experience, especially for folks like us who are in an unusual position of having more expensive tastes than our budgets can afford. So, in order to buy a house that is large enough for our needs, allow us to entertain, be comfortable without busting at the seams, in one of the few areas we prefer and at the right price, we have had to do a tremendous amount of searching.

The current house that interests us has issues. It was bought by the current owners with the intention of being shored and renovated before re-selling at a higher price. Now living in New Orleans, more generally in southern Louisiana, has the distinct disadvantage of putting you on softer ground (what with that whole below sea-level, water table 18" below the ground nonsense), which means that heavy structures like, oh, let’s say a house have a tendency to settle a bit. It’s a common problem, and there are solutions — shoring. There are inherent problems with shoring, like finding a reputable company to do it. Even then, it takes a few years to know if the reputable company has done a good job. It also detracts from the overall value of a house as compared to one that is still level without the need of any assistance. Not a bad deal for folks like us with expensive tastes and small budgets, but can cause headaches when folks like us go to sell the house years later. The work has already been done and I’m checking references from the company that has done the work, which incidentally comes with a lifetime transferable warranty. Dilemmas ensue.

Secondly, the renovations have me a bit worried. I want to be assured that they don’t skimp on anything and do it properly. I also want to be sure that they do as much work as possible to fix the place up as that means less money, sweat and time I have to spend in the future to do the work myself. Of course, there are things that they definitely aren’t going to do, but are they insignificant enough to overlook when considering this house. Of course, this is mostly all negotiable when you put the bid in on the house. Our real-estate agent advises us to "get it all in writing" so that if they skimp or don’t do something we have on paper, we can hold their feet to the fire.

The last qualm I have is the final value of the house. The folks renovating the place bought the house for a steal, owing to the amount of work it needed. Once all is said and done, is the house really going to be worth the increased price they’re asking for it? After all, unless you intend to live in a house for the rest of your life, you’re making an investment in property that needs to gain in value as time goes on. Even if the value stays the same over the years, you’re still losing money.

So, we’ve been doing a tremendous amount of research. We’ve been talking to everyone we know who has ever bought a house, done renovations or had a home shored. I’ve been an internet researching fool. My ear is taking on the shape of my phone from making so many calls. In the midst of all this we’re still looking at other houses, because if all of our concerns don’t have satisfactory answers, we’re ejecting this prospect like a bad case of food poisoning.

It’s been a long road, and I expect it to go on for a while longer. The house hunt is only one of the many loverly things shaking our lives up these days. If you are good boys and girls, I might tell you all about how I became Queen Of The Bingo later this week(end). It’s a daunting tale about the challenges each human faces, and the hurdles we each must clear to make it to the top and snatch that "crown". There’ll be a picture, too. Aren’t you lucky?

End transmission.