Friday, April 25, 2008

Not quite what I expected...

Boobie Cake!

Boobie Cake WITH Added Nips!
So the meetup was a lot of fun, as usual. I love our bloggy, twittery-twattery, silly-ass friends, I really do. You guys are all awesome. (And the D wasn't even there to add to the awesome quotient last night! THAT is how fun this group is...we can carry ourselves in awesome fashion even when the D isn't there. Bless our hearts.) The boobie cake was delicious, and all the best to you, sista, as you prep for your new body-to-be. Can't wait to see you post-op!

I've had a rough week, more or less. A phone call discussion on Monday and some paperwork signing on Tuesday for the loan on the house has left me feeling deflated and disgusted with myself, and I'm not exactly sure why. A 2 hour meeting on Wednesday with the contractor (and Mr. Electric, the electrician who will be on our project) scared me a bit. And then when I got back to the office, I got a call from the appraiser for the loan. We made an appointment to meet yesterday.

So I got home about 5 minutes before she was due to arrive. I had to run run run around the house to try to clean things up as best I could (make the bed, stuff all Leo's things into his closet so his room wasn't too disaster-related, try to clean up the coffee table in the living room...), and then just as I went to open the blinds on the door, I see that Izzy has been sick all morning, an there is shit. everywhere.


So I run to get paper towels just as the appraiser knocks on the front door. I'm ready to cry, its such a mess, and all I can do is scream over the din of the goddam dogs barking, "Just a minute!" And then mutter, "Oh God, oh God, oh God...why? Why now? Why TODAY? Goddammit!" as I try to clean up the shit all over the floor and welcome mat inside the front door.

Thank goodness the lawn got mowed on Wednesday afternoon! The outside of the house looked great. Leo just did some nice landscaping over the weekend that made the mid-yard between our house and our neighbor look much more presentable, and our lawn looks fucking awesome right now. Couldn't be better, really. So I finally open the door a bit and apologize to the girl, and she asks if she can take pictures of the back of the house, and I tell her of course. That gave me time to spray some cleaner on the spot where Izzy poo'd on the rug, hopefully helping with the lovely smell that had been released when I cleaned up the piles and puddles.

Anyway, she did her thing...measured, looked around, dealt heroically with the dogs (Izzy barks the entire time a stranger is in the house, while Jake tries to mate with their leg...), as I followed her around telling her about the upgrades I've made..."That's a new garage door opener we just had installed last month, and the door was one of the first things I replaced on the house when I moved in. The A/C and heater are new as of last spring. Bathroom was remodelled - new tub, new toilet, new subfloor...everything - in 2005. We were going to refinish the floors when we were planning on selling, but now that the addition is our plan, we won't do that until after we're done with the construction."

And she was done faster than I could say "boo." The house is easy, she says, because it's basically one big box. She asked about the roof, and I tell her it must be about 15 years old because it was 10 years old when I moved in. It's in good shape.

I forget to tell her about how we replaced all the windows over the past 2 years. So after heating up lunch, I call her and tell her about that. She tells me to let her know if I remember anything else.

And I just remembered I totally forgot about the driveway. My goddammed $3000 driveway I had installed. Mutherfucker. It's probably too late now. She said the underwriter would be done reviewing everything by last night, or today.

Anyway, I really, really, really need the house to be valued at $150,000. Minimum. I'm so afraid it won't be! And it's so stupid that I'm afraid. It really is. I need to get over it, dammit.

I just wish I could talk to my dad about this. I want to talk to him and hear him tell me that I'm doing ok, and I'm not a loser for only being able to afford a loan for $120,000.

I just am hating me right now. I wish I could have more boob...


faithstwin said...

Dude! I am so sorry! Poor Iz...Poor appraiser! Dang, what a time. I'm crossing my fingers the house come in at a great price. I have confidence it'll be just fine. And seriously? Would you just take a moment to compare your responsible, grown up life to my pathetic mess? That should instantly make ya feel like a million bucks. =P

Waldo Oiseau said...

Yes, boob usually does make things better. However, when you can't have boob cake, that's why God created Sweden and Russia--so that we could have vodka.

Hang in there! I'm sending "big loan" thoughts to your underwriter.