Monday, March 07, 2005
Somebody get me a time machine…
It’s Monday. Again. I’m at work. Again. I’m sitting here after the weekend, feeling a little like somehow,I didn’t spend it that well. Rob and I were supposed to have taken this weekend for ourselves, to spend on ourselves in glorious, frivolous fashion. We were going to rent movies! We were going to eat junk! We were going to ignore the phone calls! We were going to relax, sleep in late, and not do much of anything at all!
We didn’t exactly do that at all. We came home on Friday all tangled up about this stupid possible real estate deal with this stupid fucking realtor, who I have dubbed “The Talking Head”. The Talking Head, Sean Telnes, for any of you residents in Airdrie who are thinking of dabbling in the real estate market, is a really self-interested guy. He is, of course, a realtor, so that goes without saying. Realtors are, in general, Bad People. I’m sorry if any of you out there are actually realtors, but you had better talk to the ethics department in your industry and sharpen them the hell up right away, because all of you have a terrible name in general, and my impression of realtors gets worse and worse every second I spend speaking with them. Slimy, good-for-nothing, greedy, self-centered, selfish sock-sucking bastards, all of ‘em.
Sorry. Back to the story here. The Talking Head had made an offer to buy my condo on Thursday. You would think “yay!”, but you would be wrong. The Talking Head said he wouldn’t dick me around on the price, and would give me what I was asking, except then he told me he wanted to charge me a commission for finding me (huh?) and representing me in the sale (wha?) and that he wanted me to sign a listing contract with him so he could get his “MLS points” (eh?). And he made an introductory offer that my friend, Bargains (who has her agent’s license, but is NOT a realtor so she’s not evil), looked at and laughed at and told me not to bother with, including an initial deposit of $500, and a possession date of 60 days. He wants to buy the place so he can show it, but he doesn’t want to pay for it for 60 days, hopefully having rented it out by then so he doesn’t have to spend any of his own actual money for it. Except during the interim, I still have to pay the mortgage and taxes and utilities, and I don’t get any of that back.
So I changed the offer a bit and faxed it back to him, and he didn’t seem to have any trouble with it, so he initialed it and faxed it back. Then he kept on pressuring me to sign it, sign it, sign it, sign it so we could get the deal rolling, so he could give me $1K, so he could get a key to show it, so he could get this show on the proverbial road, folks. Something in that whole severely pressure-laden pitch of his put me just a little OFF. I did NOT sign anything. I looked it over more carefully, and decided I just didn’t like some of what he was DEMANDING, so on Friday, I changed it all again. I went to the gym. I didn’t answer my cellphone. I purposely ignored The Talking Head, and Friday evening, Rob and I went over to my parents’ place to get my mother, who is on my mortgage with me in case I am killed (so the gov’mint doesn’t get my stuff), to also sign all this stuff. Which she did. Which I sent away in their fax machine to The Talking Head.
That took up a portion of our evening. We got home, and watched TV, and drank. When I drink, I get very, very tired, unless there is a party going on. If there is a party going on, I get nervous, and drink more and more until I am very drunk, and THEN I pass out, after a longer time period. But if it’s just me? Sitting there? I get too tired to watch TV, and have to go to bed by 10:30p.
Saturday morning, we did not sleep in at all. The alarm clock rang as though it was a weekday, and all the animals got up as though it was a weekday, and I was therefore FORCED to get up and feed them all or let them outside as the case may have been. I did not get to sleep in as I had planned, and I was tired. I still had TV to watch from the night before, though, so we watched that. And got up and had breakfast, and did chores and cleaned and cleaned and cleaned.
Part of that cleaning involved picking up all of the dog poop from the yard. Cooter doesn’t like to poop in places that aren’t the yard. When we go for a walk, the NoodleDog poops out wherever we are, so it’s easy to dispose of. You pick it up, toss it in the bin that the City services, and that’s that. Cooter, on the other hand, waits until he gets home. So the whole yard, and I’m not even exaggerating one little bit here, was FULL OF DOG POOP. Because we are bad people and haven’t cleaned it in several weeks. By several weeks, I mean we cleaned a section of it in January, but since most of the yard was covered in snow, we didn’t get that aggressive with it. Now, since the weather has been very nice for the past couple of weeks, everything has melted, uncovering treasure-rich deposits as it went.
Oh, sure, Rob had chores to do – he had to unload the camper. So who was picking up the poop? Yours truly. Me. I picked up poop for HOURS, people. HOURS. My back is sore, there was so much poop to be picked-up. Ick.
It was also nice enough on Saturday to get out the patio furniture and set it up, clean it off and sit around for a few minutes. But not too long, since we had so much to do. The Talking Head had left a message that the fax was blank, so we had to re-fax it. We also went back up to the condo in Airdrie and finished cleaning it out. All of the little odds and ends and bits of junk we left until the end? Are now out of there. That place is EMPTY, totally. So that’s nice. We won’t ever have to do that again, unless we move, which we are never, ever going to do. Ever.
That brings us to Saturday evening. Where, again, we weren’t sure what to do. We had been delayed getting home, of course, so by the time we figured out what was going on, it was really too late to cook, and we didn’t feel like it anyway, so we just ordered pizza, which is kind of junk-y, but not really what I had had in mind. And we didn’t rent anything, either, because we had TV backed-up from the week before, which had to be cleared off, so we watched that instead of renting anything fun. But there was a little drinking again, and of course, by 10p, I was passing out on the sofa, so we just went to bed. I am boring!
Sunday was a new day. We slept in a little more than on Saturday, although there were lots of animals asking for food and attention and whatnot, but we ignored them! Ha! No, we totally didn’t. Rob got up and fed everyone, and let the dogs out and got up. Apparently, he was hungry or something. So instead of really sleeping in, again, we got up by 8:30a, and were going about our day as though we were supposed to be working or something. Chores, chores, chores. Cleaning, cleaning, cleaning. Unpacking boxes by the dozen!
We spent, literally, the whole entire day working at unpacking boxes and cleaning and getting things done. I suppose the end result is nice – we have a clean house and more of my stuff is unpacked (still more to go, of course), and laundry is done so I have clean clothing to wear, but man, I feel like I missed out on enjoying a weekend here. I feel like I should have taken the dogs out for a nice long walk while it was sunny and warm, which it is now NOT (it’s actually raining today). I feel like I should have made an effort to get out to the mountains to see what’s going on out there. I feel like I should probably at least have gone to the gym for an hour to keep my activity level up. But I did none of that, and instead, just worked and worked and worked. My job that I get paid for is easier than what I did this weekend.
Sunday evening, we had some friends over for dinner. It was nice. Rob cooked a very nice beer can chicken, which is also known as beer-butt chicken, and I cooked a nice side dish of potatoes and spinach, which is a lot better than it sounds. We had garlic bread, and dessert, and fancy coffees with liqueur, whipped cream and grated chocolate, even. So we were all very full after that, and even for hours afterwards, I felt way too full.
Even then, the work did not end. Laundry still had to be finished. Endless boxes beckoned to be unpacked. We sort of half-assedly watched Men in Black II on the satellite downstairs. Finally, we went to bed at 11:45p, and now, today, here, I’m tired. And I feel cheated about the weekend, although I’m very glad the condo is done and I’m very glad the house is clean and I’m very glad my stuff is getting unpacked.
So what, then, is the answer? Should we half-ass our way through everything? Rush through the chores and cleaning, to rush through the enjoying/relaxing part to rush through the cooking? No. There is no answer, and I’m here to tell you that you’re all doomed. You can either enjoy a weekend, or clean, or unpack your boxes, but you can’t do everything. Know your limitations, is the lesson I have learned.
At any rate, it’s Monday and I have not heard back from The Talking Head. I changed up a lot of stuff on that offer, so we’ll see if he really wants the condo or not. Also, Rumble has gone to the vet’s again, because at his last appointment, they noted a heart murmur and today he gets an ultrasound to find out what’s causing it. Hopefully something simple that I can just treat with medication and diet. And I have some work to do, and a meeting this morning, and the week keeps on rolling.
I can’t wait for the next weekend…
We didn’t exactly do that at all. We came home on Friday all tangled up about this stupid possible real estate deal with this stupid fucking realtor, who I have dubbed “The Talking Head”. The Talking Head, Sean Telnes, for any of you residents in Airdrie who are thinking of dabbling in the real estate market, is a really self-interested guy. He is, of course, a realtor, so that goes without saying. Realtors are, in general, Bad People. I’m sorry if any of you out there are actually realtors, but you had better talk to the ethics department in your industry and sharpen them the hell up right away, because all of you have a terrible name in general, and my impression of realtors gets worse and worse every second I spend speaking with them. Slimy, good-for-nothing, greedy, self-centered, selfish sock-sucking bastards, all of ‘em.
Sorry. Back to the story here. The Talking Head had made an offer to buy my condo on Thursday. You would think “yay!”, but you would be wrong. The Talking Head said he wouldn’t dick me around on the price, and would give me what I was asking, except then he told me he wanted to charge me a commission for finding me (huh?) and representing me in the sale (wha?) and that he wanted me to sign a listing contract with him so he could get his “MLS points” (eh?). And he made an introductory offer that my friend, Bargains (who has her agent’s license, but is NOT a realtor so she’s not evil), looked at and laughed at and told me not to bother with, including an initial deposit of $500, and a possession date of 60 days. He wants to buy the place so he can show it, but he doesn’t want to pay for it for 60 days, hopefully having rented it out by then so he doesn’t have to spend any of his own actual money for it. Except during the interim, I still have to pay the mortgage and taxes and utilities, and I don’t get any of that back.
So I changed the offer a bit and faxed it back to him, and he didn’t seem to have any trouble with it, so he initialed it and faxed it back. Then he kept on pressuring me to sign it, sign it, sign it, sign it so we could get the deal rolling, so he could give me $1K, so he could get a key to show it, so he could get this show on the proverbial road, folks. Something in that whole severely pressure-laden pitch of his put me just a little OFF. I did NOT sign anything. I looked it over more carefully, and decided I just didn’t like some of what he was DEMANDING, so on Friday, I changed it all again. I went to the gym. I didn’t answer my cellphone. I purposely ignored The Talking Head, and Friday evening, Rob and I went over to my parents’ place to get my mother, who is on my mortgage with me in case I am killed (so the gov’mint doesn’t get my stuff), to also sign all this stuff. Which she did. Which I sent away in their fax machine to The Talking Head.
That took up a portion of our evening. We got home, and watched TV, and drank. When I drink, I get very, very tired, unless there is a party going on. If there is a party going on, I get nervous, and drink more and more until I am very drunk, and THEN I pass out, after a longer time period. But if it’s just me? Sitting there? I get too tired to watch TV, and have to go to bed by 10:30p.
Saturday morning, we did not sleep in at all. The alarm clock rang as though it was a weekday, and all the animals got up as though it was a weekday, and I was therefore FORCED to get up and feed them all or let them outside as the case may have been. I did not get to sleep in as I had planned, and I was tired. I still had TV to watch from the night before, though, so we watched that. And got up and had breakfast, and did chores and cleaned and cleaned and cleaned.
Part of that cleaning involved picking up all of the dog poop from the yard. Cooter doesn’t like to poop in places that aren’t the yard. When we go for a walk, the NoodleDog poops out wherever we are, so it’s easy to dispose of. You pick it up, toss it in the bin that the City services, and that’s that. Cooter, on the other hand, waits until he gets home. So the whole yard, and I’m not even exaggerating one little bit here, was FULL OF DOG POOP. Because we are bad people and haven’t cleaned it in several weeks. By several weeks, I mean we cleaned a section of it in January, but since most of the yard was covered in snow, we didn’t get that aggressive with it. Now, since the weather has been very nice for the past couple of weeks, everything has melted, uncovering treasure-rich deposits as it went.
Oh, sure, Rob had chores to do – he had to unload the camper. So who was picking up the poop? Yours truly. Me. I picked up poop for HOURS, people. HOURS. My back is sore, there was so much poop to be picked-up. Ick.
It was also nice enough on Saturday to get out the patio furniture and set it up, clean it off and sit around for a few minutes. But not too long, since we had so much to do. The Talking Head had left a message that the fax was blank, so we had to re-fax it. We also went back up to the condo in Airdrie and finished cleaning it out. All of the little odds and ends and bits of junk we left until the end? Are now out of there. That place is EMPTY, totally. So that’s nice. We won’t ever have to do that again, unless we move, which we are never, ever going to do. Ever.
That brings us to Saturday evening. Where, again, we weren’t sure what to do. We had been delayed getting home, of course, so by the time we figured out what was going on, it was really too late to cook, and we didn’t feel like it anyway, so we just ordered pizza, which is kind of junk-y, but not really what I had had in mind. And we didn’t rent anything, either, because we had TV backed-up from the week before, which had to be cleared off, so we watched that instead of renting anything fun. But there was a little drinking again, and of course, by 10p, I was passing out on the sofa, so we just went to bed. I am boring!
Sunday was a new day. We slept in a little more than on Saturday, although there were lots of animals asking for food and attention and whatnot, but we ignored them! Ha! No, we totally didn’t. Rob got up and fed everyone, and let the dogs out and got up. Apparently, he was hungry or something. So instead of really sleeping in, again, we got up by 8:30a, and were going about our day as though we were supposed to be working or something. Chores, chores, chores. Cleaning, cleaning, cleaning. Unpacking boxes by the dozen!
We spent, literally, the whole entire day working at unpacking boxes and cleaning and getting things done. I suppose the end result is nice – we have a clean house and more of my stuff is unpacked (still more to go, of course), and laundry is done so I have clean clothing to wear, but man, I feel like I missed out on enjoying a weekend here. I feel like I should have taken the dogs out for a nice long walk while it was sunny and warm, which it is now NOT (it’s actually raining today). I feel like I should have made an effort to get out to the mountains to see what’s going on out there. I feel like I should probably at least have gone to the gym for an hour to keep my activity level up. But I did none of that, and instead, just worked and worked and worked. My job that I get paid for is easier than what I did this weekend.
Sunday evening, we had some friends over for dinner. It was nice. Rob cooked a very nice beer can chicken, which is also known as beer-butt chicken, and I cooked a nice side dish of potatoes and spinach, which is a lot better than it sounds. We had garlic bread, and dessert, and fancy coffees with liqueur, whipped cream and grated chocolate, even. So we were all very full after that, and even for hours afterwards, I felt way too full.
Even then, the work did not end. Laundry still had to be finished. Endless boxes beckoned to be unpacked. We sort of half-assedly watched Men in Black II on the satellite downstairs. Finally, we went to bed at 11:45p, and now, today, here, I’m tired. And I feel cheated about the weekend, although I’m very glad the condo is done and I’m very glad the house is clean and I’m very glad my stuff is getting unpacked.
So what, then, is the answer? Should we half-ass our way through everything? Rush through the chores and cleaning, to rush through the enjoying/relaxing part to rush through the cooking? No. There is no answer, and I’m here to tell you that you’re all doomed. You can either enjoy a weekend, or clean, or unpack your boxes, but you can’t do everything. Know your limitations, is the lesson I have learned.
At any rate, it’s Monday and I have not heard back from The Talking Head. I changed up a lot of stuff on that offer, so we’ll see if he really wants the condo or not. Also, Rumble has gone to the vet’s again, because at his last appointment, they noted a heart murmur and today he gets an ultrasound to find out what’s causing it. Hopefully something simple that I can just treat with medication and diet. And I have some work to do, and a meeting this morning, and the week keeps on rolling.
I can’t wait for the next weekend…
