bluebeard

OH HEY!

Does anybody wanna buy a house?

1933-ish Craftsman, wood siding, large front porch w/ columns. Two official bedrooms, living room, dining room, kitchen, 1.5 baths, extra room off living room can be another bedroom (it's my bedroom now), another extra room behind the kitchen, laundry room, decent attic space, small back porch, shed, above-ground pool with deck. The .5 bath and laudry room are off the back room. Central heat and air. Wood floor mostly; kitchen and back rooms are vinyl (I think he's gonna replace that before it sells), bathrooms are tile, one bedroom is carpeted.

The outer walls will be pressure-washed and painted.

The backyard is gardened, and currently grows figs, peaches, pears, grapes, apples, cherries (if you're lucky), and the various veggies that'll die over the winter.

Cooper-Young area of Midtown.

I'm not certain exactly what the asking price is gonna be, but it'll be officially on the market next weekend, aiming for a closing date of late January. Since, y'know, I plan on staying there until then. Heh.

We wanted to offer it to the cool people first, but whoever plops the money down'll get it.

Car's registered! (wait, you think I went to the store legally?) I now drive without fear. I thought I'd be totally late for work today, but I actually got here when I normally do -- I was 2nd in line at inspection, and fourth at the county clerk's. So yay me.

Fuck getting up at 6am. Fuck it up the ass. And don't yell "Surprise!" because if you don't yell "Surprise!" it's rape and that's funny.

Low-key weekend. Slept lots. That was good, since last night sleeping was difficult. Blech.

Oh! I'm rewarding myself. I didn't go out for an entire month while I was paying off my car shit. The reward: new holes. I think I may just go entirely crazy and get my lobes done. 14 piercings and I've never had my ears. I hope I don't hate them.

Plans are solidifying.

As I've said before, the building sale closes on December 13th. Louis wants the house to close late January-early February, which is feasible since it's a nice house in an awesome neighborhood.

This changes my plans to move to Nashville in January from "probably" to "definitely".

Unfortunately, looks like that job isn't going to happen as soon as that; possibly late February. I'll need to find work from moving up there to until they need me.

It's all very exciting.

Got my car back yesterday, and got the mirrors on as soon as possible. The only thing missing is tags.

Speaking of which, why the fuck does it cost $143 to get a little plastic sticker with next year's date on it? That's absolutely retarded. Wheel tax, my ass.

When a client writes me a letter and signs it with "Looking forward to becoming a better driver!" that's a pretty strong indication that they're full of shit.

That's all.

So, like, I struggle with my skin. Minor irritants like fleas and mosquitos can be a big deal; they swell and itch like a motherfucker. I get psoriasis on my hands, which I've recently gotten over a bout of. Often, I just plain itch for no reason.

Just when everything seems to be under control and just about all healed up, I get an infection in my eye. It's swollen, as is the lymph node by that ear.

Damnit.

I've been doing my scales every day; I can go about 10 minutes now before my right hand starts complaining. That doesn't sound like much, but it's amazing how long it takes for the hands to build up such specific strength. I'll keep at it, though.

It's given me pause to think about my relationship with my hands. For most things, for most people, using your hands isn't anything we really think about -- your head says "eat bagel", not "hey! arm! you and the hand -- reach over and grab that! now bring it up to the mouth! there's a good lad!" And typing -- I've been typing for 21 years, and all I have to do is think about the words; my fingers pump the letters out on their own.

With the fiddle, though, I have to re-evaluate where the line is between concious, intentional movement, and unconcious, intuitive movement. If I stare at my hands while I'm doing scales, I get the positions almost right, but I'm pretty sure to screw up. If I don't look and don't think about it, and just say "Play A#," I'll most definitely screw up. However... if I don't look, but still monitor my movements, I can trust that I'll hit the note; the relationship between my concious thoughts, my hands, and my ears becomes a lot more complex.

I wonder if I should try running up and down scales while wearing a blindfold.

The realtor has a signed contract and earnest money for the sale of the warehouse.

I'll say that again: The warehouse has been sold.

There's still crap in there that'll need getting rid of. We'll probably have a sale at some point for that stuff.

Eeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeee!

Hahahahahah. This guy calls about his son's ticket. The son, who is 21 so I'm uncertain why his dad is dealing with his traffic tickets, has missed his court date and the dad is mad about it.

Looking for comiseration, he asks me "Do you have any teenage kids?"

Hahahahahahah. I'm 26.

OMG HURRICANE OH SHIT WE GONNA DIE.. uh.. oh. it chilled out, dove south and will dissipate. Sorry about that, y'know, the alarmism, uh... global warming? Yeah. That's it.

Hm. Nothing to report, really. Work, sleep, work, sleep. Pulled my fiddle out and tuned it for the first time in ages; yep, it still works. Louis says he'll commit to practicing his flute with me while I'm on fiddle, but his flute needs new pads and springs and whatnot. We'll see.